Fear No Darkness
by swift hunter
Summary: The world is crumbling yet it seems that not everyone noticed. It's going to take some shock to snap Vergil out of it. He escaped from Hell once, and unless he'd like his new home to come with a volcanic view...he might just want to do something about it
1. Prologue

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Disclaimer:** I don't own Devil May Cry. I don't own the characters of Dante, Trish although lord knows I'd sell my very soul to own Vergil.

**AN: **I wrote this story whilst possessed. As in waking up at four in the morning and starting to type. I have in total 39 chapters so far and am still editing with the help of my wonderful Beta. Special thanks to the Icon of Coolness. Now, since I have not played DMC4 it will not factor into this story. Frankly, I wrote this way before it came out. Now...I have seven chapters edited and ready to post but after that it may slow down. I'd like you opinions and flames as always are welcome. If I've made a mistake, of course I'd like you to tell me. But I treat a flame like a chapter treasure hunt for mistakes. So now that that is out of the way. Enjoy. Mind you this is not chapter one. This is just the prologue.**  
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**Prologue**

All he felt was pain; torturous, agonizing, unrelenting pain twisting his soul on a level far beyond anything the physical body would have ever been able to endure. He'd failed in his mission; and his master, instead of destroying him completely, had chosen to punish him.

In this place of blackness, this endless empty void, he relived everything he'd been through time and time again. The few memories he had, returned with a haunting presence and reeked with the stench of his own guilt. Over and over they continued to warp into various forms in his mind's eye dulling whatever linear thought he may have once had. Unable to force the feelings aside, they cut into his very soul staining his very essence with thoughts and images that would be forever kept alive; and would sustain his barely recognizable sanity throughout this life and the next. Visions of all that he'd done, all that he'd almost done were clearer now than they'd ever been. He was in his own personal hell and yet the part of him that had broken the chains of Mundus's power over him, still pushed against the shackles of his prison.

Even though Mundus had tried to purge him of his memories he'd held onto enough of himself to recognize his family. To submit to his brother. Spare him. No matter how hard he tried, Mundus hadn't been able to strip him of his soul.

So he suffered unending torture and humiliation under Mundus's thumb for what seemed like an eternity.

Then it stopped. Just like that, the power that held him was gone. His unbreakable prison nothing more than a thin pane of fragile glass. In an instant he was free, his thoughts his own, his body returned. His memories reordered in his mind.

The ether around him shifted and he felt himself returning to the physical plain. Gasping for breath. He was alive. He was Vergil once more.

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The dinky office was claustrophobic, and made even more so by the stench of cheap cigarettes, booze and some unknown foreign perfume. Jamie had learned long ago not to care. Mike was, despite his sleazy appearance, one hell of an agent.

He'd gotten her a job with the city's biggest dance schools and during the summer she was the star of the evening performances. Though it could be said it was actually her that aced the auditions, she would never have seen the door if it weren't for his contacts. He was usually so full of fantastic advice. Usually.

"I won't do it! There is no more discussion."

The balding man wiped his face as though his hands would somehow erase the worry lines etched into his overly tanned skin. He was worried; Jamie was probably one of his greatest clients. No doubt that with her name to his credentials he had his choice of business. One of the biggest up and coming Ballerina's and she didn't even look at toilet paper without consulting him first. Though he could admit it was more than that, she was one of those people that seemed to bounce back no matter what life brought. He respected her as a hard worker, someone who didn't shy away from long hours. When her parents had been killed she'd been left with her little sister, along with a demanding job and more stalker like fans than most Hollywood celebrities. Jamie was a tough one. Speaking of stalkers.

"This guy is a nut job...you gotta take care of yourself. Some self defense classes wont hurt either...this whole thing has gotten way out of control. If you don't call the police..."

Jamie wasn't going to go into this again. With her sister in the house she wasn't going to entertain the notion of a gun and she would loose her job if she gained any kind of extra weight.

"Every time some creep sends me some weird notes, you do this. What makes this asshole any different than the last twenty?"

Mike couldn't deny that she was right. The only problem was the twisting gut feeling that something was going to happen. Something horrible.

"Listen, JB, I got a very bad feeling. I know what I'm talking about!"

Her face was unflinching, her brown bangs shielding her eyes. Her mouth pulled tightly into a thin line. Mike knew when he'd lost.

"Fine...I give up...we'll do this your way but I don't want you to go anywhere alone. Even a single hair on your neck stand up you call the police...got it?"

Jamie gave the man a curt nod, hesitantly followed by a smile filled hug. The older man always felt a little awkward at her open shows of affection. With a devious smile she opened the door to Mike's version of a goodbye.

"Stay safe kid."

The sound of the gunshot didn't even register in the slender woman's ears. She just stood staring into a hate filled face. At that instant her vision began to swirl around in one quick, streaking flash of sideways movement ending with what she thought was a surreal glance at the windows near the top of the ceiling. The minutes seemed like seconds and her vision swam with images she couldn't identify and sounds she didn't understand.

Her agent hadn't had a second to think as the man standing in the doorway put a bullet in his client and ran off. She'd stood there for a few seconds after he'd ran, before collapsing on his office floor with the strangest blank look on her face, as though she didn't even realize what had happened. Bleeding profusely and in obvious shock, he'd watched the woman slip away.

(scene)

Jamie shot up out of her bed shaking. The night she'd been shot had been the final straw in her ironically tragic life. It would be now that she would make dramatic changes in how she lived, after feeling beaten by circumstances beyond her control. She'd been in the hospital for so long that they replaced her in the performances, and when she finally regained consciousness she had no choice but to take a permanent job as an instructor in the school. Suddenly obsessed with safety she took up Tai Chi and bought herself a gun. It was that short period of her life immediately after the shooting, when she abandoned everything important in her life to focus on her younger sister. The person whose life had suffered the most between the two of them so she could have her career, the one person who'd been there when she woke up.

Everything in her life was now routine. Wake up, take Justine to school, go to work, pick up some groceries and collect Justine from school. It was mindless, all done to the same rhythm day after day. When her sister had no school she'd take her places. To the park, the Zoo, on bike rides, all in a desperate attempt to be remembered as more than a substitute for her parents. Her sister never knew she'd chronic insomnia and never noticed the way she tensed around other people. To Justine she was the greatest; more than a sister, a best friend. Only an adult mind would quickly put all the pieces together and reveal to them that Jamie had developed various anxieties in regards to unfamiliar people and places. These anxieties were most likely the reason she had no adult friends. To her everything foreign brought with it a new and unforeseeable danger that Jamie had to calculate. Even Justine's friends had gone through rigorous screening.

While she worked to give her sister everything; her own life suffered in a way none could imagine. Most would call it living in some kind of purgatory. She was a shell, an image of a person and nothing more. Her soul was like a chunk of ice, frozen and nearly lifeless. Pain a forgotten memory and pleasure an illusion meant to distract her from her responsibilities.

Her car stopped out side the school and she calmly waited for her sister to emerge. A normal Monday routine. Usually the doors would be flung open and Justine would come charging down the steps like a bull. Today there was nothing. No wild, wavy brown hair bobbing up and down, no book bag being lugged around like a ton of bricks. Jamie waited for about a half an hour but no one came. Fear began to tug at the corners of her mind. Yet she held herself together for another fifteen minutes before panic got the best of her.

Jamie practically left the car door open as she rushed into the school. It was now her wavy brown hair bouncing around and her turning stomach that felt like the ton of bricks. Her heart beat in her throat as she raced along the corridors. To her horror Justine's class was empty, as were all the classrooms she peered into as she hastily traversed the corridors; searching, for the one and only being that meant anything to her at all. Her senses nearly stung with intensity as she sought out any clues as to the whereabouts of her sister. Despite her efforts and after what seemed to be hour-long minutes she still found the halls to be devoid of life or movement of any kind.

She was about two breaths away from a panic attack when she ran into a Janitor who pointed her toward the Gymnasium.

The first thing that struck her was the soothing melody of classical. Like a broken addiction, the sounds entered her mind like a drug and struck a chord of emotion within her that longed to be heard again, and yearned to play in concerto with the sweet music she was now hearing. Surprisingly she had found something from her past that for at least a moment in time could sooth her. It was unfortunate though that these same memories, for as glorious as they were, just happened to be the source of her emotional pain. There was a sadness that crept upon her as she reflected back on a time in her life that will never be again. With all of her mental fortitude she pushed back the pain and continued her quest in having to find her sister.

Slowly and with silent steps she opened the door and slipped inside. In an instant she was whole again. Her once fragile world, rebuilt again in all the glistening splendor that she'd grown to adore. It was a dance recital. There in the center an over worked, obviously tired former student twirled and leaped as she had once done. A mirror image of her own, now faded, grace. The dancer, whom Jamie had recognized as a girl called Nancy, disappeared off stage and it was flooded with all the younger dancers, Justine one of them. Jamie was fixated on the scene recognizing herself at that age, the same love of dance could be seen lighting Justine's eyes and ushering her feet in time with the music. For so long Jamie stood there in a trance. Captivated by the nostalgia of it all.

If it was even possible, her heart sank lower than before as the music stopped and the performance ended. The roar of applause fell on deaf ears as she stood there, her world shattered all over again. It was only when her sister re-emerged off the side of the stage and noticed her that she forced on the smile that still fooled the ten year old. In a matter of moments she was almost plowed over in a bear hug.

"Did you see me dance...did you?"

Jamie smiled but only at her sister's happiness, only for her. She wouldn't ruin this moment for her.

"You were fantastic...really."

The young girl beamed in a way that Jamie hadn't done in years.

"Now...why don't you go and say goodbye to your friends and I'll meet you in the car."

The girls face became a picture of guilt,

"You're not mad?"

Jamie gave her sister another hug.

"Don't be silly...why would I be mad?"

Justine beamed before breaking the hug and handing her sister her pumps.

Her sister hopped, skipped and jumped all the way to the other dancers who hugged her and squealed in a typical girlish fashion. Jamie just stood there clutching the pumps 'til her knuckles where white and her hands where shaking, waiting patiently for the dance instructor who was weaving around people on her way over to her.

"Such talent...your sister is an incredible dancer, is she not?"

Jamie's face could have been made of wrought iron, her expression was dead.

"I do believe...you need my permission before you enroll a ten year old into a dance class... Miss?"

The woman didn't grasp the underlying annoyance in her tone. Her English was perfect but emotions tend to get lost in translation. Had she noticed the shaking hands of the woman she might have left the conversation for another time.

"Herity...and don't worry it is paid for by the school... I honestly never realized that the great Jamie Bloom's sister was such an equally talented dancer. I didn't think you'd mind."

The woman was warm and casual. She paid little heed to the fact that Jamie hadn't taken her eyes off her sister to even look at her. Well, she hadn't until the woman said that.

"You thought wrong!"

The woman tried to speak but Jamie cut her off before she could form a single word.

"And no...I don't think I'll be signing her up for lessons with you. She only has to ask me and I'll make sure she's tutored by the best. Not some faded, money hungry, half wit. You seem to forget who you're trying to con here.

After all, I've been in the business long enough to spot a 'has been'."

The woman was overwhelmed, blank confusion quickly turning to anger. The burning rage making her cheeks redden and her earlobes go pink.

"How dare you speak to me like that! I've...never in my life...and _has been_? If anyone is a 'has been' it would be you!"

Jamie's stare seemed to silence the woman. For a moment her dark brown eyes shone like black onyx and her lightly tanned face became pale.

"That dancer...the one in the recital...she pulled out of my class two years ago because she said that her new dance instructor could get her more practical experience...that she was cheaper. She had such potential...now look at her. What you've reduced her to. Overworked and under paid..."

The woman was absolutely silent. Her anger was mixed with irrational fear and pure shock.

"Don't delude yourself into thinking that those sloppy excuses for Pirouettes could get her anywhere. We both know you've ruined her career...had she stayed in my class she'd have already gotten an invitation to perform in Russia...If my sister wants to learn to dance...I'll teach her myself"

Justine had waited for her older sister to finish with the dance instructor before running over to her and giving her another hug. In an instant the dark mood evaporated and Jamie was nothing more than a lovable sister.

Hand in hand they strolled out of the Gym. Down the corridors Jamie listened enthusiastically as her sister pointed out various trivial things. Leading her on a full tour of the school.

"That's Miss Muldoon's class. She's really mean; she gives loads and loads of homework. Look...that's our biology class they have a snake in there and all."

Jamie smiled and encouraged her younger sister. She paid enough for private school; it was nice to know it was money well spent. In the back of her mind she considered complaining to the principal about the instructor. Those people where like leeches, parasites and they rarely gave up that easily. They targeted the talented youths and their naive parents with promises of fame and money. She'd seen her share of them before, parents taking kids out of her class because those people where marginally cheaper. Talented kids thrown into low budget productions too early, driven to destruction because they have no clue how to deal with the adult problems they're left to face on their own. Children forced to grow up too soon.

The large wooden doors at the exit creaked open and the two of them were blasted with the chilly evening air. Stepping out into the brunt of the cold, the pair left twin sets of foot prints in the crisp new layer of snow lining the ground as they headed towards the car park. A few steps down the stairs and Jamie's grip on Justine suddenly tightened, her mind thrown into a state of panic.

Her car, she'd parked it right outside but it was nowhere to be seen. The patch of ground free of the light falling snow the only indication a vehicle was ever present.

Jamie slapped her palm into her forehead realizing she left her keys in the ignition when she got out to chase down Justine. The blow combined with the icy air sending a sharp pain through her skull. As she stood on the sidewalk cursing her stupidity, her sister started to shake. Startled by the trembling cold hand she immediately took off her jacket and placed it over her sister's shoulders. Even though Justine wore a heavy coat she'd very little tolerance to the cold being a city kid. She'd never had to trek through the snow to get to school. The MTV generation and the wonders of central heating.

Jamie had left everything in the car, her phone, her purse. It was such a stupid mistake to make. She practically put a sign on the roof that said "rob me". That and her little tour around the school meant that they were the last people roaming the halls of Pritchard's Private Elementary. While there might still be a Janitor around and she could ask to use the schools phone there was no-one she could call. Any other time she would try and call the police, unfortunately they tended to not to turn up this close to sunset for anything other than a national emergency. If she called them the chances anyone would come where extremely slim. To wait longer would mean walking in darkness.

"Looks like we'll be walking home today. Get a bit of fresh air,

how bout that?"

Justine gave a cute pout and Jamie couldn't help but be slightly concerned that they'd be left walking the streets at night. Strange things happened at night and the reason they'd so few homeless had nothing whatsoever to do with poverty levels. People disappeared all the time except no-one asked any questions, not even the police. It was very risky but she couldn't think of anything else to do.

"Big baby...come on. We'll be home in no time and then we'll get pizza and I'll make you some hot chocolate."

This was answered with a loud "whoopee...can I have sardines?" Jamie cringed at the thought of fish on a pizza but nodded along anyway. Dance was probably the only thing they had in common.

The sun had started to go down and the uncomfortable chill had become a deadly cold. Even under her sister's jacket Justine was shaking. Jamie too was freezing to the point where she couldn't feel her fingers and toes but they were so close.

"How much... farther? I'm... cold."

Justine' teeth where clattering and Jamie was racking her brain for a shorter route home.

"Very soon...I think I know a short cut."

Jamie, against all her common sense, against every fiber of her being that was screaming about the risks, took her sister off the main street and down a side street. The route would take about fifteen minutes off the journey but it was through a derelict part of town. If it wasn't for her sisters uncontrollable trembling she wouldn't have entertained the notion. Panic makes fools of us all.

The streets became unnaturally quiet and the slightest rustle began to make Jamie jump. Considering her predisposition to anxiety she was doing well keeping it together. Truth be told, if it wasn't for the fact that her sister was beside her she'd have been running down this street.

"Keep moving...come on!"

Justine was slowing down and a slow non weather related chill was creeping up Jamie's spine.

"JB, I'm...getting tired"

Jamie swept the girl into her arms and picked up the pace. Slipping occasionally on a patch of frosty pavement, the light snow gathering on her hair and shoulders, the feeling of unease slowly increased. By the time she rounded the next corner she was running. The blinding red light and the high pitched shriek stopped Jamie in her tracks and sent her heart skyrocketing into her throat. To say it was like nails on a chalk board would have been a lie. It was an animal-like sound, with nothing human capable of reaching quite that high of a pitch; and the smell, that too was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It was like weeks old rotting meat. It made her want to vomit.

There was a moment when she almost wanted to look behind her, for just an instant, just a quick flash of curiosity. But she honestly didn't want to know what was capable of making that sound.

She did the only thing she could, she just ran, the cold and the route completely forgotten in her haste.

After a few minutes of mindless racing her arms began to ache and the stitch in her side became so unbearable she had no choice but to slow down. Looking around she spotted a gap in the fence of a nearby dilapidated factory. For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime she put Justine down and directed her wordlessly through the hole. Justine passed cleanly through but Jamie caught herself on a stray piece of wire. A piece of torn clothing and blood hanging from the fence, the only indications of life. Inside Jamie checked on her sister. She'd been unusually quiet and her face was sickly white. She was icy to the touch.

"Come on...you have to stay awake...you hear me!"

Her sisters eyes where fluttering but she snapped them open, spotting something over Jamie's shoulder. That's when Jamie caught it. Again; that horrible smell.

She turned slowly and came face to face with terror incarnate. When you dream of monsters as a child you understand the feelings of dread, sudden raging fear. Seeing this was like reliving your childhood, you felt so weak, vulnerable in the face of something bigger and scarier than you'd thought possible. The Thing was like a melding of flesh and sand. Rotten and disgusting, it made bile rise in her throat and her hair stand on end. It carried a large grotesque looking weapon, rusted and twisted, somehow resembling its master in an extremely warped sense.

Jamie had never taken her wild bulging eyes off it, not even as she forced Justine behind her back did her gaze waver. She retreated slowly, shielding not only her sister from the creature's path, but the sight of the monster from her sister. Anyone who saw that would see it every night for the rest of their life. You'd never sleep again; Jamie knew she wouldn't for sure.

The creature stalked the pair slowly, delighting in the fear and anguish, the doubt and the fleeting sliver of hope. It seemed to be feeding on fear as if it were a drug, and this…thing, whatever it was, was completely addicted.

Jamie could sense the amusement, practically feel the humor. This wasn't just kill or be killed, this was sadistic, demonic. The word lingered in her head. A demon? Yes, she was one of those people that had heard of such things, but like most, if it didn't interconnect with their lives it got pushed into the 'bullshit' category.

"What...the _fuck_ are you?"

"Goddd!!"

She actually laughed at that answer, that was until she realized it'd come from another creature. This one looked like it had come straight out of a horror book. The horns, glowing red eyes, covered in black armor and a rather wicked black scimitar at his side.

It took Jamie by surprise and made that fragile hope of escape shatter like glass. Now that there where two of them her chances just went from slim to zero. All that went through her mind was, that if anything else, she could at least give Justine a chance at escape.

"You're not a God..."

Jamie whispered to Justine who clung for her life at her sister's back.

"Sweetie...when I tell you, you're gonna run".

She could feel her sister's grip tighten almost painfully on her scratched side. Sudden fear breathing life back into the child's fading form.

"You do what I say...you hear...you're gonna run and you're not going to look back. Keep running."

Jamie picked up the remnants of a broken pipe left discarded among the litter of the factory floor.

"Gods can't die."

"GO!!"

Like she'd been told Justine ran to the door. In all of Jamie's movement she'd put the only exit at her rear so there was somewhere to run. As she thought that her sister at least stood a chance the Sand monster disintegrated and a moment of terror struck at Jamie's very heart. With no consideration to the demon she still faced, she turned to face the exit just in time to watch the Sand Demon materialize in front of her ten year old sister and strike.

Her scream stemmed from both emotional and physical pain. Jamie had turned her back on the black Demon and he'd put a knife in it. Burying it to the hilt, just to the right of her spine.

Jamie slumped to her knees as the blade was removed, her hands resting in the ever growing puddle of her sister's still warm blood. All of her emotions, poured out of her in time with Justine's life. Then she heard the laughter, haunting, as though several different voices were laughing at the same time. All of them laughing at _her_.

The pain subsided as her body went into shock. Some ridiculous voice in her mind reminded her that pain lets you know when your alive and it's when you should be feeling it but can't, that's when your screwed. It was a good piece of information but ridiculous because she had no illusions that the wound was anything other than absolutely fatal.

Her mind was racing, everything she'd lived for and it had been cut down in a handful of horrific moments. These things had made the last three years of her life absolutely obsolete; meaningless.

With the strength of the dying she pushed herself up off the ground, her own blood mingling on the floor with that of her sisters. The end of a family line.

"We're not through..._Demon_!"

That single word held so much venom, so much hatred, the thing actually took pause. Turning around it looked at her with an uncertainty and maybe a flicker of confusion that spurred her on and made this pointless effort, seem at least a little worth while.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you..."

The creature, faster than human eyes could possible see, lunged toward Jamie and caught her by the throat. The spikes on the black gauntlets, cutting deeply into the skin on her neck as he lifted her off the floor. Unfazed, she spat out as many insults as she could think of before finishing it off.

"You don't frighten me; I've already lost everything that mattered..."

She coughed up a little more blood spitting it in his face whilst she stiffened her jaw against the growing pain. The creature lifted her up further and brought her close to eye level. The putrid stench of his breath wasn't half as sickening as the smile filled with sharp razor teeth.

As he held her there trying to size her up, her hands reached out and gripped the hilt of his very own scimitar. Fumbling with the release she yanked it free and swung upward with all her might. The creature dropped her while leaping back. Her attack carving a deep line into his chest and leaving a coating of black oily blood to drip off her hands and down the blade.

The thing was literally fuming. Shock and anger cracking the mask of superiority he'd worn.

"Didn't expect a fight...well fuck you!!"

The horned Demon didn't retaliate, instead sending the weird sand thing in first. It dematerialized and despite her obvious short comings in martial arts she knew enough to recognize this things tactic. At the last minute she spun around and before the creature had even fully formed behind her, she'd sliced it in half. The blade glowing slightly as it severed the thing at torso level. It turned to sand at her feet and didn't reform. Not repeating her last mistake she was facing the last Demon, sword in hand. He seemed to regard her for a second before smiling and pointing to the sword she held. She could have sworn she heard. "Demon blade...little human" but the creature's mouth hadn't moved.

The sword had begun to grow hot, to the point of burning her. Arms wavering with the effort she held on. After a few moments her whole body was shaking violently, like tremors they radiated from the sword.

"I...won't...let...you...live"

She heard it but not with her ears. It echoed in her mind and she felt the pulse of life within the very blade. It was a living weapon already equipped with a master. Speaking in her head, it was describing how it would kill her. Just one problem with that though.

"I'm already dead...so just give me a minute and you can do what you want then; it won't matter"

The tremors ceased for the moment as though the sword was considering her response. She'd stumped it, caught it so off guard it might have actually been amused.

The black demon seemed to sense the change in the sword and took the moment to attack. After blood loss and the wound that was slowly killing her, her movement wasn't even close to dodging the knife that he plunged into her abdomen. His smug smile returning she gave him a blood filled one of her own.

"Forgetting... something..."

She was still gripping the Demon sword tightly and with all the years of emotional walls crumbling she plunged the sword into the Demon and collapsed to her knees. The sword began to glow again and although the Demon tried he couldn't forcefully remove it. Staggering back he gave a howl before the sword caught fire and he was engulfed in flames.

Jamie watched as his body disintegrated and the sword clattered to the floor. She was so weak she could barely even see straight, let alone cough out her apologies to everyone she'd wronged; her sister included. All she could do was watch as a figure gracefully dropped from the rafters. She'd never even seen him arrive which could only have meant that he'd been there all along. Watching and waiting in the darkness. If glares could kill, the look she gave the white haired angel in blue would have left nothing but a pair of smoking boots.

A series of blinding red flashes and more of the creatures had appeared. Seemingly bored, the man just stood there waiting and at the last minute he cut them up like Sushi. He could have helped them, saved them; these things weren't even close to a match for him.

He'd finished the monsters in about five seconds flat and now he was just staring at her. Vague detachment, a little regard, but mostly just a cold calculating stare. There was a merciless cold in those unnatural blue eyes of his, piercing. As though he could see into your very soul. Had she not been so close to death she'd have been a little afraid of those eyes. As it was she was wondering why she wasn't dead yet. Surely after everything, she'd already be gone.

A few more seconds of thought and she came to the conclusion that the blade still resting in her stomach was keeping her here. It might have been holding a lot of blood in or it might have been designed to keep its victims alive, who knew.

Her hand slowly inched its way up from the floor and rested a moment on the knife before trying to dislodge it. Funnily there was no more pain, only a sense of discontent and some hollowed out anger and rage. Had she more strength she'd have tried hating the blue eyed devil in front of her but she didn't. Couldn't find it in her; not now. Not after this. She already had enough self hate to last her a life time. No need for another target.

After an endless struggle the blade came free and she toppled over. Her eyelids were slowly closing as her body gave in.

Still the man stared. Long after the body had stopped oozing blood from the various cuts she probably never knew she had, he'd watched. As though he were waiting for something to happen. In fact, something had happened.

He couldn't find any other way to explain what he just saw.

Finally standing up from his crouched position he made his way over to the scimitar on the ground. Picking it up by its handle he tested its weight. Moving it around in a few maneuvers before a searing heat jolted up his arm and he had no choice but to drop the blade. His mask of disinterest shattered and he looked to the still body of the woman before talking off his coat and wrapping the sword in it.

It was one of those days. Resting in his mind was the thought that despite her inadequacies in battle she'd lasted longer than he'd have guessed. Still weak, but at least not pathetic enough to let it show.

Avoiding the pools of Demon remains and blood he casually walked out the main doors and vaulted effortlessly over the fence.


	2. Fear No Darkness

**Fear no Darkness**

Vergil reflected upon the recent events concerning the human woman and couldn't quite get those big doe eyes out of his mind. In them he saw what he recognized as hatred, anger and fierce will. Admirable traits to be sure, but her name would just be added to the long list of puny, dead humans. Being both weak in body and mind he often thought of them as useless wastes of skin with no right or reason to have the privilege of walking the Earth.

Despite his steadfast lack of concern for humans, he was still rather surprised at her defeat of Faro. Watching that pompous bastard be downed by a fatally wounded human was a rare treasure; Faro being one of the Demons he'd personally pissed off in his short lifetime. He thought of Faro as merely incompetent at best, earning nothing from Vergil but outright resentment. He had to work hard to gain any kind of power, whereas power had simply fallen into Faro's squandering hands. Although, being killed by the human was one failure too many and far worse than others he'd made. If he's ever resurrected he might just kill himself out of shame.

Vergil strolled casually out of the elevator and into his penthouse. He did have standards after all. Taking the bundle off his back he placed it on the table and slowly unfolded the blue cloth. The wickedly sharp black edge of the blade and the Demon bone on the handle made for easy identification. It was indeed Faro's Devil arm. In ancient times, before Mundus came to power, it had been Faro's brother. Of course family was never allowed to get in the way of power, so the story goes that a jealous Faro stabbed his own brother in the back. The brother became the sword and well, the usual blood, death and debauchery followed. What was bugging him though and troubling his highly ordered mind was not how the woman killed the Demons. In retrospect he gathered that neither of the two, Faro or his Demon associate, ranked very high on the intelligence pyramid; making their deaths at a humans hand quite possible. What truly surprised him though, was how the blade reacted to her, betraying its own, very much living master in favor of a human.

Humans couldn't even hold a devil arm without being tainted to the point of undeath, driven insanely suicidal or killed on the spot. Hence the long pause of any actions, as he waited for the corpse to reanimate back at the warehouse. Was Faro so loathed by his own devil arm that it betrayed him to a human? He smiled to himself as he pondered Demon revenge. It was one hell of a payback he had to admit.

"Demons certainly know how to hold a grudge."

The sound of his voice broke the silence of the room with the simple statement. He never expected a reply.

"You talk as though you hold a few yourself..._Demon_"

: Vergil didn't even realize his breathing had hitched to the point of causing actual pain or that he gripped the hilt of Yamato so tight with his sword hand that his knuckles were turning white.

Demon blood coursing through your veins gives you certain powers and makes it rather hard for others to sneak up on you. Or at least it should. His heightened senses didn't detect anyone else nearby, but instinctually he knew he wasn't alone.

"Show yourself"

Even in his slightly panicked state his voice portrayed nothing but absolute confidence and complete control. It was then that he began to experience the ever-familiar surge of adrenaline, kicking every sensory function into overdrive.

"Not sure how...but give me some time. Slightly new to this... shit. It should come with a manual or something."

The voice was so casual, so fearless. As though when it decided to show he wasn't going to cut it in half for disturbing him.

Slowly, in the dim light, the shadows began to merge and a form started to take shape. This was not the usual process for Demons entering the human plain but Vergil wasn't dwelling on the little details. As soon as the shape was finished rematerializing, he lunged. Plunging Yamato forward he found that blow after blow struck nothing but air, as though the figure were just a shadow and nothing else.

"What... are you?"

The figure, as he cautiously backed up, moved forward, gathering color and texture, as well as more detailed features. Just as he'd seen her not twenty minutes previous the woman from the building stood in front of him. Her hair in a loose ponytail and her baggy jeans and wooly jumper hanging off her.

"I'm dead, that's what I am. No thanks to you, _asshole_."

Even though her tone was almost playful, Vergil could see a glimpse of the rather inhuman black fire that seemed to hide behind her brown eyes. That same dark flame of existence in her pupils, weighed out as the only indicator of the manner in which she died.

Despite her rather innocent demeanor Vergil was acutely aware that any human spirit capable of manifesting so shortly after death was either very strong, or very pissed. After the manner of her death it was most likely an equal combination of the two. Now knowing what he was facing he relaxed somewhat. Ghosts were a nuisance at best.

"What are you doing here, _Human_?"

Vergil once again looked disinterested and coldly he turned his back on the manifestation.

As though all the warmth had just been sucked out of the room the woman's voice became like ice, sharp and cold.

"Ooh...aren't we a bit touchy?"

His eyelids hung slightly lower over his eyes, the only indication of his waning patience.

"Unfortunately…Vergil...that is your name, isn't it?"

She didn't get any reply, not that she'd expected one.

"Well... Vergil. I require assistance...and since humans can't see me...well, I'm sure you're smart enough to work it out."

Vergil ignored her and the peculiar fact that she knew his name, choosing instead to put his sword back up on the wall. He'd deal with her how and when he wished.

"In case you haven't noticed I'm still here and I don't intend on leaving until I get what I want."

The sword on the wall shook a little and Vergil caught the unflinching gaze of his spiritual lodger. Moving things was a major step for any spirit. To be doing something like it so shortly after death was a cause for concern.

"Move on or something...just get out"

The woman spoke quietly, almost to herself,

"I...can't"

Vergil rolled his eyes; he had no patience for living humans, why should he have anymore for dead ones.

"And that's my problem...because?"

The woman casually walked into the sitting area and parked herself in one of Vergil's armchairs. Her face was once again all but emotionless.

"For one thing you let me die...secondly, you let my sister die...and oh yeah...because I'm making it your problem."

Vergil didn't like where this was going. His cold blue eyes seemed to almost glow in the dark. Annoyance was steadily building, even though he'd never let it show he was quite aggravated at this point.

"This is the last time I'm going to politely ask you to leave."

The woman smiled at him; one of those patronizing, superior smiles. The darkness in her eyes, tamed for the moment.

"I think I'm going to hang around."

He didn't even look at her as he made his way to the storage room and began pulling out odd looking jars, accompanied by a few books and an ornate looking dagger. With purpose he made his way back across the room. Impatience and annoyance fueling his movements, making his normally light strides seem edgier.

Putting the articles on the table he arranged them in a star like pattern. The symbol he created on the table appearing both crude and unsightly.

Standing over it Vergil surveyed his progress. While not extremely talented in spell casting he was adept enough to do this. The last thing to be done was the incantation from the book he'd retrieved. The spine was all but destroyed, the pages actually singed in some parts. In others they'd come loose and were now simply resting between the half ravished pages of the rest. The book was in tatters. Not from simple neglect either. It looked as though it had come through a war.

Finding the relevant page lying discarded at the back, Vergil began the incantation. It was a simple spell to get rid of human spirits. It shouldn't be much of a problem.

Four hours later and he'd officially given up with the clearing. Every time he performed it nothing happened, nothing more than a big fat zilch. His little pest just sat watching with the occasional smile or smart remark.

He could feel something resonating within the apartment now. Every time he came close to completion, it surged, the magic evaporated and he was back to square one. It was a faint power but it was growing. The smile on the woman's face was grating his nerves. His mouth twitched as he finally addressed her wide grin.

"Find this funny?"

Her slight smirk was instantly replaced with a barely contained holler of blinding rage.

"Find...this funny? WATCHING MY SISTER CHOKE ON HER OWN BLOOD...DYING! YOU THINK I FIND THIS FUNNY? Unable to enter heaven... damned to hell...but stuck here, with you... oh yeah... absolutely hilarious!"

Vergil wasn't going to be bullied by an incorporeal dead human. He'd be damned before he'd be made anyone's lapdog. 'Not again.' He thought to himself.

"You don't know who you're dealing with. Help? I think it's pathetic that you even need to ask, wouldn't you agree?"

The cool calm was back in the woman's face and voice.

"I don't know who I'm dealing with? Have you any idea what you're dealing with? I'm going to bring hell itself to your door if you don't help me."

What she meant with that Vergil could only guess

"You can threaten me all you want...if it makes you feel less guilty."

Vergil couldn't help but let a small smile slip with that comment.

The son of Sparda always found a weakness, always. He could practically see the words cut into her flesh. Guilt was always such a useful human emotion. As he wallowed in the small pleasure he took from that, something changed in the spirit.

No trick of the light, no imagination. Her eyes became pools of true darkness. Most idiotic humans would believe that darkness is the absence of light. After so long on the other side he knew the truth, that darkness is tangible, like oil it spills in to fill the void after light. A mere illusion of nothingness.

"That...was a mistake, _General_!"

With that final, almost painful comment she faded and Vergil was left wondering if, like his twin, he'd made a mistake the moment he'd opened his mouth.

Turning back to the table he swiftly put everything back in its proper place. Forcing out all the silly notions about a ghostly revenge. Humans were weak; they couldn't hurt him. After clearing everything away all that was left was the scimitar. Carefully, he re-wrapped it and stored it out of sight. That night he did nothing out of the ordinary. He took a shower, polished his sword, read a little and went to bed with no more signs of his pest.

That's when things went downhill.

* * *

Vergil shot up in bed covered in sweat. He'd never had a single nightmare in his life nor had he ever been sick. Yet his sheets were soaked with sweat and his limbs ached as though he'd just run some kind of Demon triathlon. Falling out of bed he found himself uncharacteristically weak, barely able to support his own weight. Stumbling, he just made it to the bathroom. 

His face was paler than normal and the bags round his eyes reminded him of the time he'd had a contest with his brother about who could drink the most coffee at one time and was left unable to sleep for about a week.

A sudden bout of nausea came over him as he heaved the contents of his stomach into the sink. It helped, but only a little and despite all his Demon powers he couldn't seem to overcome the rolling waves in his stomach. Rage built up inside him as he quickly found the culprit standing in the bathroom doorway.

"What...did you do to me, bitch?"

He tried to sound as menacing as he could while holding himself up in front of the mirror.

"What? Me? I'm just a weak human spirit. What could I possibly do to the mighty Vergil?"

Vergil collapsed in the bathroom and leaning against the wall he tried to steady his heartbeat, control his breathing and maybe stop the sickness. Despite his best efforts to vanquish the ill feelings, he still felt as if he should strategically place himself near the toilet, just in case. His body was at war with itself but he wouldn't give in. If it was a fight the human wanted it was a fight she'd have. If he couldn't get rid of it he'd find some Sorcerer or Shaman who could.

Sitting down against the wall the form crouched beside him, feigning a look of genuine concern.

"Poor baby...maybe...you're feeling guilty. Then again...I suppose a bastard like you hasn't the slightest idea about such human things as guilt...or pain."

Vergil lashed out with his fist only to find it passed straight through the woman's head and smash a rather large hole in his bathroom wall.

"Temper, temper...we've a whole night of fun left."

He'd never actually taken the time to appreciate the sunrise. Never noticed the beauty of the gold and orange hues rising up, as if making some grand entrance onto the surface of the Earth from below breaking the bonds of the horizon. At least that's what it looked like to him. Not being completely human, he found it amusingly ironic how he now enjoyed the same trivial moments as the humans he despised and how a night of torment can make you appreciate the little things in life. That and make you remember why you despised petty human's to begin with.

After the sickness and pain subsided he'd been driven to insanity with music. His penthouse had been turned into a supernatural nightclub. He didn't even own a stereo yet she'd somehow blasted him with such sleep inducing songs as Slipknot's "Wait and Bleed". Not to mention turning song's he loved into methods of torture. Mundus couldn't compare with this. This was savage, cruel abuse.

As he found the strength to stand he came face to face with his torturer. She seemed almost as tired as he was.

"Will you help me?"

The question was quietly spoken, as though the spirit was afraid of his reply. Vergil was slowly regaining his strength as hers waned. With a defiant breath Vergil gave her his reply

"...No..."

Her face became solemn, maybe even regretful. She didn't look like she was enjoying this as much as he thought she would.

"I don't want you to suffer...that's not who I am...but if I have to...hold no illusions I'll do what it takes. I won't stop this 'til you agree."

Vergil took a few uncertain steps forward and confronted the spirit in her illusion of a face.

"I'd see you in hell...before I'd give in to a pathetic, wretched, piece of filth...such as you."

The woman reached out and put the palm of her hand parallel to his head. Her mouth twisted into an out of character sneer. It was something that looked out of place on her, something wholly foreign. Something forebodingly evil.

"So... you want war, Nelo Angelo...you'll get it. Unlike you...I have nothing but time."

All pretenses of superiority and calm disappeared with the woman, as Vergil was left wide-eyed staring at the spot where she'd stood. No human being had ever heard that name, so she couldn't possibly have known it.

His body froze as he began to put the pieces together. His nightmares, all these resurfacing feelings she gave to him. It implied that she'd invaded his dreams; taken a look at his memories, his most private inner thoughts, things he'd managed to block out. The situation had just taken a rather dangerous turn considering she hadn't just crossed the line from pest to poltergeist; she'd vaulted several miles over it.

* * *

Vergil calculated the passage of time since her arrival. It seemed to be the only task at the moment that his normally higher brain functions could handle; it was quite possibly the only thing keeping him sane. Four days had passed since he had first refused the Ghost. That was ninety-six hours of sleepless, unending torture. That was five thousand seven hundred sixty ruthless minutes of being tormented with traumatic memories resurfacing in his conscious mind, all while suffering bouts of nausea and dizziness. He couldn't remember the last time he had been subjected to having to see his insides turned out and have their contents hurling into one heaving, stench filled, cesspool of filth. 

The shops owner had seen Vergil come in and almost ducked behind the counter. Such was the nature of their last meeting. The tacky shirt and cheesy comb over notwithstanding, the shopkeeper was actually one of the only Shaman's in the country that specialized solely in spirit pest control. The dinky shop filled with extremely exotic, dust filled junk would never have seemed the place to find such a caliber of Shaman.

"You're not going to kill me are you?"

Vergil would have flashed him a smirk of superiority but it had been a very bad week. His only thanks were in the protective charms scattered around the street by the Shaman meaning she couldn't follow him here.

"No"

The man jumped into a standing position from behind the counter and adopted a more professional demeanor. If Vergil wasn't here to kill him then it was business, business, business.

"What can I do for you?"

Vergil tried not to seem too worried, or desperate. The guy may be a bottom feeder but like all businessmen, he could smell weakness.

"I need rid of a certain spirit. An annoyance...really."

He feigned disinterest as he trailed his fingers over the articles on display. Letting the Shaman ponder his problem. The man appeared thoughtful for a second before replying.

"Exactly how strong is this Demonic spirit if it can cause you to become _annoyed_?"

Vergil cringed; this was the part he was loathing. To admit he couldn't handle a mere human specter. Having to confess that the uncharacteristic stubble and the large bags under his eyes were the result of…entertaining a sniveling human spirit.

"Actually this is a human pest...a remarkably resilient one."

Biting his sharp tongue at the look of mild amusement on the Shaman's face he elaborated.

"Doesn't seem respond to any normal spells. Requires...I dare say, more professional assistance."

The man smiled a mouth full of rotten, yellowing teeth. Shaman's collected unique human souls. The more they had and the more rare the find, the more power they possessed. Like leeches of the dead, they sucked a soul of all that gave it energy. Becoming, themselves, more powerful.

"What era is it from, sixteenth Century, seventeenth?

Vergil actually smirked, if this didn't get the Shaman's attention nothing would. The soul might prove to be it's own payment.

"Actually it's recent...around four days old and already able to move things, induce nightmares and... other less mentionable irritations."

The man let his mouth hang open just a little before reaching for his coat. Vergil had never seen any human move so fast. Nothing quite compared to the enthusiasm of a Shaman when he was faced with a chance for greater power.

"I will come immediately...You will direct me. It is of essence that I get there soon while it is weakened."

Vergil caught the man's arm and gave him a questioning glance.

"Weakened?"

The Shaman wrenched his arm out of Vergil's grasp.

"If it was active all night...and I'm assuming the bags under your eyes are a clear 'yes' to that theory... then it will be weakened. A perfect opportunity to act...although...I've never encountered a human spirit capable of such displays so shortly after death...are you positive it isn't a Demon? I don't deal with Demons…well"

The man smiled again,

"Unless they're paying of course!"

Vergil didn't need to give an answer, his stern patronizing features provided the man with the only response he'd ever get.

"Very well...lead the way."

* * *

The elevator had started moving before Vergil had even turned his key for the floor. It opened onto his level allowing the Shaman to impatiently push past him into the apartment. 

"Would your friend like some coffee? Or...tea, maybe?"

As far as Vergil could tell she was humoring the Shaman. He though, wasn't in the mood for games. His period of torment had left him a little rough around the edges.

"I'm being perfectly serious...don't give me that paranoid look. I was wondering if he'd like some tea or coffee."

The man cautiously approached the image of the woman who was studying him, waiting for the reply. The Shaman was more than able to handle this.

"Tea would be most welcome, thank you."

He ignored the glare of impatience and frustration from Vergil and began placing items around the room while the spirit was busy. They would be necessary to keep it in place for the spell.

When he was finished he sat down and waited for the tea, which promptly floated out of the kitchen displayed elegantly on a tray.

The tray was awkwardly placed on the table and the Shaman smiled politely before filling himself a cup.

"If you don't mind me inquiring...how did...this happen?"

The woman became a little distracted, glancing around the room as though she were looking for something. When she didn't reply Vergil answered the question.

"She was killed by Demons a few days ago"

A now rather edgy spirit caught the odd, gluttonous looks in the Shaman's expression. Lowering her voice she stated her sudden concerns. It was only now dawning on her that the short bald man wasn't all that he appeared to be. The unspoken communication between the half Demon and the Shaman further enhanced her worries.

"Vergil...why do I suddenly feel like a piece of meat in a butchers window?"

He didn't answer her instead choosing to watch as the Shaman slowly stood and put the last item in place. The woman's scream pierced the still air as her very form began to twist and bend. As though being pulled out of shape by some unseen force.

The Shaman began to inspect his paycheck thoroughly; even as her hate filled, blackened eyes followed his circling movements.

"Oh yes...indeed...this soul is more than payment enough, quite a rare find. Immensely powerful!"

The Shaman halted his circling maneuver and began chanting. Waving arms, he ushered a long incantation as he produced a small round gray orb. Vergil felt the air become tense as the spell began to work. Like an electrical storm in his living room it charged the atmosphere.

He could feel it steadily climaxing only to be broken as the Shaman tossed the orb at the ghostly figure in the room.

Nothing happened and yet the woman's form, twisted and faint, could still be heard screaming.

"Something is wrong here...something's opposing me... "

The Shaman's hands were shaking as he tried to force the soul into the orb.

Something caught the corner of Vergil's eye and it was only his quick reflexes that allowed him to grab the collar of the Shaman and pull him back, just as the black scimitar cut a clean path through the area he once occupied, before becoming lodged in the wall above the fireplace.

Both stood stock still as the blade glowed faintly and the objects scattered around the room, the same objects keeping the spirit in place, burst into flames.

The Shaman held one shaking finger up in the direction of the weapon, momentarily speechless both from the shock and the sudden pressure on his windpipe.

"That is a Devil arm is it not? It wouldn't have been present while the human was killed... would it?"

Vergil gave a grunt that the Shaman interpreted as a yes.: The man's brain engaged into it's working form like a flesh and blood laboratory. His own powers giving him an insight into the situation. Kneeling down the Shaman produced a pouch and scattered a number of bones around the cracked orb in the center of the room. His newly produced scepter glowing faintly as he examined them.

"I see...well...this is a rather tricky problem. There is a line of power between the Devil arm and the spirit. The only explanation is that your pest is drawing power from the demon energy of that sword...while your sword is feeding on the raw emotions of your ghost. The soul of the woman cannot be collected while she remains tied to the Demon."

Vergil was grinding his teeth. The Devil arm was using the woman's spirit like an all you can eat buffet. Lending a little power here and there but an all-together sound investment. No doubt it wouldn't let its investment be damaged, it had just tried to kill the Shaman for taking something that wasn't his.

It wasn't looking good for him. The type of links Demons made weren't subject to things like distance. If he decided to throw that thing back into hell she could still come and visit.

The Shaman broke his train of thought.

"Now there is a way..."

Vergil ears perked up, he was listening intently but at the same time very cautious. It wouldn't be long before she returned, undoubtedly pissed.

"If I were to break the Devil arm...create a temporary seal to contain the Demon essence... so as to stop rebirth. This would sever the link and leave the soul free for collection. It would take some time to gather the things necessary but it could be done with a reasonably low risk to all involved."

Vergil didn't care about the risks. He wanted rid of her and he wanted it done soon.

"Do it!" Replied Vergil.

The man took one more glance at the sword before collecting what was left of his equipment and rushing to the elevator. His eyes alight with something reminiscent to childlike glee. Vergil had no idea how much power the Shaman was about to collect on. If he had, he probably would have thought twice about this deal.

Vergil watched the man leave and almost dropped to his knees with the thoughts of a few more days of torture. He wouldn't survive it. Either he'd be taken down by Demons that seemed to be constantly searching for him or he would just throw himself on his sword rather than be forced to listen to anymore Slipknot. His only choice was to feign defeat and buy the Shaman some time.

After four sleepless nights it was surprisingly easy to convince himself that this wasn't giving in. That it would all be worth it. The part of him that was always ready to criticize could be heard screaming about weakness and inner strength but Vergil had learned long ago that sometimes you had to sink in order to rise above the obstacle.

He'd play ball but only to see her suffer in the end.


	3. Humor Me

**Humor me**

Postured in a motionless stance Vergil remained in front of the plate glass doors overlooking his balcony and the great city below, in what was more than likely a feeble attempt at displacing his mind somewhere other than the current situation. He did this knowing full well that the woman would return, and that he was becoming more sensitive to every moments passing. It seemed that his heart was now functioning as a biological timepiece, each beat ticking away the few remaining minutes until the woman's return. These few minutes between the Shaman's failed attempts and now, had become precious to him. Rubbing his temples he felt rather than saw her return. Like suffering a knife wound to the brain, her rage cut into his very core disturbing every complacent thought he could have ever had. It was her power he now fully sensed and felt the effects of. Her very existence oozed with dark uninhibited energy.

"WORM!! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW PAINFUL THAT WAS? LIKE BEING RIPPED IT TWO...MAYBE I SHOULD RIP YOU IN HALF AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT."

Vergil simply grit his teeth and held on through the agony. Her every word was forcibly dealing out the pain like a hammer fall on his skull.

It was obvious that for her, becoming the rope in an ethereal tug of war wasn't at all pleasant, regardless of her being dead.

Despite being riddled with torturous, unrelenting pain, he mentally smiled at the thought that he'd at least inflicted upon her some kind anguish. With any hope there would be more for her to endure, and he would see to it that she suffer far and beyond anything he'd experienced since her arrival.

Her power steadily receded as she calmed herself, as did the magnitude of his migraine; this being a harsh, annoying reminder that she had some control over him. Once she adopted a colder, less temperamental demeanor, the physically enraged features on her face began to fade into a more serene composition. This was timed perfectly as she reigned in the tendrils of power she'd inadvertently let loose. Once rational thought had been reinstated she began to speak in what was once again an evenly passive tone.

"Where's your little sorcerer...Verge...I'm sure I can fit him in for a few nights a week, too."

Vergil pointed to the elevator.

"You'll be happy to know he gave up... Ran out of spells."

Vergil rubbed his eyes and sat down. The sick feeling was slowly returning, churning his stomach like the contents of a stew pot. If this woman were corporeal he'd be inclined to rip the dirty, human flesh from her bones. But no, he had to feign defeat. To a human.

"What is it that you want me to do?"

There was a knife sharp edge to his voice that he just couldn't hide. His vengeful tone threatened to seep far past both the armored expression that was his unflinching gaze and the deep, nearly empty cast of his cold eyes.

Her answer put him on the defensive too soon.

"What happened to wretched, pathetic, filth?"

Vergil steeled his resolve and didn't panic. His emotions forced back by pure will power, he merely shrugged, pushing the indifference in his voice.

"I'm tired of this, I want you gone. Anyway possible."

The spirit studied his face thoroughly, searching every square inch of it with something akin to paranoia. With her expression softening, she seemed to accept him as genuine.

"I...just need to know a few things. It'll take maybe a week at most."

In all honesty, Vergil expected something a bit more dramatic from the spirit considering the effort she'd put forth in trying to attain his help. 'Information? Is that really all she needs? What? No raising her or her sister from the dead? No going back in time to change events? Humans truly are pathetic!' Thought Vergil to himself.

If that wasn't disturbing enough, he thought of the emotional energy she had cashed in just to perform half of the things she'd done. In conclusion, it must have been an incredible amount without even taking into account the power stemming from even one of the emotions responsible for her abilities. The question being though; is her command of ethereal forces being fueled by the Demon, or simply by her emotional state at the time of her death? If he knew nothing else, he knew that in the very least her overdriven rage was definitively a factor in feeding her power.

The only remaining question…where now, had all that rage gone?

He could only guess at this point. His head ached like nothing he'd ever experienced and he'd honestly never felt this tired.

"Fine... where are we going?"

Vergil had picked up his coat and sword and was half way to the elevator before she spoke again.

"I'm not in any rush...it can... wait 'til tomorrow if you want to rest."

It seemed her voice was devoid of anger, and emptied of the previous hate he associated with her presence in the first place. Parallel to her bizarre request, her tone was indeed odd as well, spoken in nothing more than a hoarse whisper and seemed rather…out of place.

Vergil was almost certain it was a joke. The spirit that had him slumped beside the toilet vomiting and spent four days tormenting him, while almost killing his Shaman was feeling sorry. It was a contradiction he couldn't quantify. Her rapid and almost forced bouts of humanism were both confusing and unnerving at the same time. This was something he would have to muse over when he was at full strength, but with the promise of some peace and quiet; he, still clutching Yamato, had fallen asleep in one of his armchairs.

Vergil woke up a little more than dazed and for a single moment he had no idea where he was. For someone used to waking up completely alert, it's not an entirely comfortable experience to wake up so jumbled.

Bolting up he found himself in his own bed. 'BED? How the hell did I get in bed?' He shouted in his mind. Vergil distinctly remembered falling asleep on a chair; with sword gripped tightly in hand, paranoia swirling around pleasant thoughts of a certain ghost trapped in a little glass ball, being slowly devoured by a balding, crackpot Shaman. His mask of usual icy calmness and utter superiority cracked in three little words.

"What... the fuck!"

The reply he got was unusual to say the least.

"I'd threaten to wash your mouth out with soap...but considering you've decided to help me I'll forget I heard the 'o so dignified' Vergil curse."

His anger was pulled sharply in and registering a momentary lapse he covered it up with a trademark superior sneer.

"How... may I ask, did I manage to get into bed?"

The woman pleasantly smiled and Vergil cringed. He never wanted to kill anything in his life, more than he wanted to kill her

"You wouldn't like it if I told you, so...I suggest you clean up, grab some coffee and we can be moving."

Vergil was well past irate but she wasn't just aggravating. She upset him in a way he thought only his twin could achieve. Plus there was something almost sinister about her. Something not altogether human. Then again he hadn't had much experience with humans outside of his occasional killing of one of them, this fact being the only reason his logical brain kept forcing the thought out. Even though he managed to convince himself that it was his imagination his paranoia grew.

Thoughts of revenge made Vergil feel a whole lot better after pondering the ways in which he knew she could suffer; and there were quite a few in fact, off the top of his head, that gave him the slightest tingle of pleasure. He thought for a moment of the psychological pain he could inflict upon her; using his words as though they were the poisonous barbs. Unfortunately, when dealing with the dead, an alternative means of revenge must be found. Something more permanent. Despite his disconcerting state of mind in wanting to creatively gut her from head to toe, he decided to exercise a bit more patience. After all, her demise would be worth waiting for.

"Now maybe you'll answer my question as to our destination."

He found that no answer was just as tiresome as the sound of her actual voice. Getting up from the bed, he found himself fully dressed and was eternally grateful she hadn't undressed him. He was feeling vulnerable enough as it was. Once again in his mind, he cursed the race of humans.

Walking into the living room he found her wraithlike form standing, staring at the sword still protruding from the wall.

"I cleaned up but I wouldn't know where to begin with this"

He almost laughed, she'd made him physically ill, killed two Demons, survived two attempts at a clearing and she can't figure out how to get a sword out of a wall. Talk about hilarious. His only response was a stifled laugh to which he got a very stern look.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Vergil could still give her a little aggravation. She did deserve it.

"It's just amusing that you can be so absolutely pitiful. Really! You can focus to such a degree that I am stricken with truly viable physical stress. Yet, you can't even pull a sword out of a wall."

The sneer returned and the ghost became oddly hostile,

"And what would you know son of Sparda...traitor extraordinaire, pathetic half-breed. What would you know about focus? You, who gave up a chance to rule over Earth because you lost track of a sniveling mongrels hidden agenda...offering nothing but pathetic excuses in the wake of your loss."

Vergil's face became twisted in fury, his Devil blood practically boiling in his veins but still she continued. Hell...it was probably the sole reason she continued.

"Even your Devil slayer brother has more conviction than you. You're nothing, fate has chosen to discard you like all those before you...How pathetic indeed."

It was only the slow realization that Vergil was no longer speaking to the same entity that presented enough of a distraction to quell his anger. Something stirred within the otherworldly form he came to recognize as the woman before him. Although, by appearance he would never know the difference, his higher senses autonomously registered the change in the very fabric of her existence. It was now that the Demon energy became more defining within the confines of her ghostly form. The apparition was rank with it. It easily occurred to him that with the sword holding a part of her soul it would be altogether possible to manipulate it; given the right circumstances. Vergil smiled on the inside. Humans he knew next to nothing about. Demons on the other hand; he could handle.

"You're the Demon Gedran? Reduced to speaking through a human spirit. And you dare insult _me_?"

The apparition snarled and Vergil was forced to dodge the blade of the scimitar as it flew through the air, narrowly avoiding his head.

"If you knew half as much as you thought...you'd never have considered pitting a two bit Shaman against me. And I would be led to believe that you are the smarter of the children of Sparda. If you are, your brother must be a brain-dead vegetable."

Vergil let a smirk dance on his lips. He wasn't going to bother arguing with that assessment of his brother. His reply to the Demons taunts came swift and not without a certain sense of satisfaction.

"At least I had the sense to keep an eye on mine...he may have defeated me but I never let him put a knife in my back..."

The malice and anger of the underlying demonic power that she was connected to, receded in less than a split second; causing the defining properties of her face to change. Remaining in his mind was the contrast between the two entities and the differences between the physical features of both. In conclusion he now knew that there were two beings vying for control of this one energy pattern he came to recognize as the woman in front of him. Or perhaps, it was all a clever ruse. Vergil was certain to find out soon enough.

"What...was...that?"

She seemed to be at a loss as to what actually happened. Her quizzical expression overshadowed both her shock and fear; burying the need for these emotions in the abyss of her consciousness in order to further analyze the events of the past few moments.

"I...saw it...kill them...all of them...so much blood!"

Her eyes where teary and Vergil felt a flicker of human empathy claw away at something inside him. She'd just gotten a glimpse of the Demons mind, something no human has ever had to experience. Even he would be weary about it.

A thought suddenly struck Vergil. It was quite possible that the revenge he'd been adamant about exacting all along was being misdirected. The Demon was empowering her, maybe even manipulating her into torturing him. He was more than aware how horrendous it felt to be someone else's pawn. A flicker of sympathy found it's way out but was quickly squashed back down by countless thoughts of revenge. He knew now that even if the Shaman didn't collect her, the sword would just consume her anyway, piece by piece. His satisfaction tainted by the revelation, he was in a darker mood than usual. Her form fading in and out as she tried to bury what she'd just seen, that didn't help his resurfacing conscience.

"Are you..."

He couldn't seem to find the right words to finish the sentence. Something in his twisted soul volleyed for supremacy and allowed him to hold back any verbal acknowledgement of concern.

"It's just...I was doing all that...I was killing and...!?"

Vergil took on an emotionless 'matter of fact', tone; hiding the feelings that threatened to crawl and scratch their way out through Vergil's thickly reinforced persona. Pity wasn't exactly what he considered an emotional strength in any creature; especially in him. Devoid of all concern for her well being, he answered her rather coldly.

"It wasn't you, you halfwit...it's the Demon...It did all those things, so unless you want to sit there wallowing in self pity we should get going."

Her simple response was said so coldly it almost had him momentarily frozen on the spot. She didn't even need to look at him, the mere sound sending icy ripples through his stomach.

"I'll meet you in the car...just...go."

Vergil did as he was asked. The need to leave, was now less a ruse meant to humor her, and more of a precautionary measure meant to create a minimum safe distance between both himself and flying scimitars. That and the fact that he had less patience for the ramblings of old dead Demons than he had for humans and that wasn't a lot of patience at all. If it surfaced again, it might just want to kill him.

As soon as the elevators closed behind him the apparition stood up straight. All the pain and horror on her face was wiped completely clean. A slow Cheshire smile began clawing at the corners of her mouth accompanied by the unearthly black essence of darkness pooling in her eyes.

"Too easy!"

He found her waiting in the passenger seat of his Lexus as he stepped out of the elevator. She was wearing that completely blank expression. Vergil could have sworn it mirrored the one she wore as she died. Hollow, with a dash of confusion. She must be feeling the Demonic presence attempting to squeeze her out now by now.

"Where do I drive?"

The woman for a second seemed more than distant.

"Home..."

It had taken him a good hour to navigate the winding roads leading up to the woman's family home. It was an old house hidden away in the hills outside of town. There were trees and bushes that had overgrown to such an extent that they where blocking the driveway. Vergil was reduced to play gardener with Yamato. Or leave his precious Lexus out on the road for anyone to help himself or herself to. The woman for some reason was decidedly protective of the car. Her only explanation was that "you never realize how much you need it until it gets robbed".

He reluctantly followed her in through the back door. His boots left footprints in the years of dust that had accumulated.

Everything was still in its rightful place. Dishes where in the sink. The kitchen stools just pulled slightly from the counter. If it weren't for the broken window, dust and cobwebs it would almost seem as though the house was still being used.

"You should fire the maid."

His own brand of extremely dry humor wasn't lost on the woman who chuckled under her breath. Perhaps her first truly genuine laugh since her death.

"I didn't come up here much after they died. I just left everything where it was. I've stepped foot in my room only once in almost five years."

Vergil had moved into the living room and spotted the pictures up on the walls. Happy smiling faces, all of them. A perfect family. Picking up one of the photos on the mantle he read the back. 'To Jamie, wishing you all the best in the auditions. Love, mom.' The photo perfectly captured the image of the woman when she was obviously a few years younger, before time and what was apparently a great deal of stress had shaped the features of her face. She was standing in her pink tutu and leotards, equipped with ballet shoes and one of the brightest smiles he'd ever seen.

She was a dancer, not just any kind of dance but a ballet dancer; icons of grace and elegance. If that alone hadn't captured his attention he was now able to put a name to the face he had come to know as the face of a pest he truly wanted to be rid of.

He'd never even asked her but she did have a name; Jamie. That tight feeling of fledgling sorrow in his gut had come back with a vengeance. It crept its way through him generating small ripples of unwelcome doubt in the surface of his ordered mind. Glimpses of memories from the time he spent under Mundus' thumb struck him like jolts of electricity. The things he'd had to do, the pain when he didn't do them. It made him waver slightly on his feet.

"I need some help up here..."

Crashing back down to reality, Vergil had never been so relieved by such a distraction. He didn't cope well with being reminded of having destroyed so many of those once happy families and the horrors he'd forced himself to forget.

If he were honest with himself, he'd have admitted that part of his hatred of Humans stemmed from his own family experiences. People got to go on with life, blissfully ignorant of all the things that go bump in the night. His family though had been singled out by Demons all because his idiot father took the side of Humanity. Human weakness had been the root of all his family problems. His mother died because she was weak and his father gave his life trying to protect them because they couldn't do it themselves. Even his own brother took up the crusade turning his back on flesh and blood for them.

The glass front of the photo shattered in Vergil's hands.

"I can't move it on my own...It's stuck or something."

He suddenly realized that Jamie was in the same room with him. It didn't surprise him too much. After all, spirits don't breathe or make sound when they move, lending to the idea that it would be difficult to know when they were around.

Putting the shards of glass back beside the photo he wordlessly followed her up the creaking stairs and into her bedroom. She had been unsuccessful in trying to move the rather large wardrobe. The big, oak, beast of a piece of furniture would undoubtedly be near impossible to move, especially when you have problems removing swords from walls.

With one hand Vergil slid it easily away from the dusty surface. Taped to the back of it were both a long flat box and a small little bag. Gingerly, he removed both; though it was obvious the small bag was what she was after.

"I put the box here about two years ago because Justine couldn't stand the sight of weapons...the shoes have been here since before they died."

Vergil found a pair of old ballet shoes wrapped in thin paper, hidden at the bottom of the bag; they where old and worn but obviously held sentimental value.

"What now?"

He obviously wanted to get out of the happy home of haunts as soon as possible. His unease was more than obvious.

"I want you to give the shoes to someone I knew. The box you can keep if you want...not as if I need it anymore."

Ignoring the box for the moment he concentrated on the shoes. For all his hatred of humans, his next question to her was still presented with more callousness than he had originally intended.

"Who and where?"

The blunt way the question was phrased seemed to roll over the spirit; and where it should have earned some kind of emotional response, there was nothing.

"My body was found a few days ago and a medical examiner released it last night...I'll be buried this afternoon. She'll be at my funeral."

It disturbed him on some new levels hearing her talk so casually about her own funeral. It was strange how some things didn't seem right.

Stepping outside and taking his first breaths of clean dust free air he realized he still carried the box she said he could take. A part of him wanted to leave it, but another part of him wanted something to keep with him. Perhaps it would serve as something to make this whole pointless trip to the middle of nowhere seemingly worthwhile.

While he absently fingered his keys an unusual rustle of wind blew at his coat and in an instant Jamie was standing beside him, her features unnaturally pale. Something seemed off about her posture, oddly stiff. While he tried to get her attention, she seemed to be transfixed on the space above his car. Although able to sense her anxiety, it was only when she made the porch swing burst into flames that Vergil sensed the portal. Being so close to the other side she must obviously see the openings form before he could. When you're on the Demon hit list it's a handy ability to have.

The blinding flash of red preceded the first demon as it leaped from the vortex only to land on the hood of Vergil's car.

Vergil unknowingly winced at the sound of metal screeching and bending. The Sloth's claws had penetrated the hood of his car by at least five or six inches. Vergil was sure that the Sloth's actions had done untold damage to his engine.

Vergil's sword was revealed dangling easily in his hand as he effortlessly glided down the steps. The Demon sloth was patiently waiting, not for him but for the others he knew were coming. He was right as always as three more appeared to land beside the car, spaced rather unevenly along the driveway. Waiting for their attack, her voice beside him succeeded in splitting his attention.

"Everything looks so much scarier when you're alive..."

Vergil wasn't going to entertain the idea of a response. Had he not had so much experience tuning out his brother's useless comments the drift of attention could have been costly.

As the first Demon leaped toward him he sidestepped, simultaneously unsheathing Yamato. He didn't even need to apply any kind of force as the natural momentum of the swing combined with the falling Demon, cut it cleanly in half. The segments had turned to dust before they even made contact with the ground.

Re-sheathing his sword; Vergil let loose a slight smile to grace his otherwise stoic face. It was just too easy dealing with these lesser Demons. The second and third both disintegrated and reappeared on either side of Vergil. Almost rolling his eyes at the utter predictability Vergil let them raise their weapons for the attack. As they swung downward he simply stepped back letting both weapons crash into the ground in front of him. As they struggled to hoist the weapons back up he simply drew a wide arc with Yamato. Not the most fantastic of battles credited to his name but he hadn't any need to draw this out parrying blows unnecessarily, when one strike would easily end his problems.

The last Demon stood motionless as it looked past Vergil toward the woman in the doorway. A moment passed where the Demon almost forgot it was still facing Vergil. It just continued to stare at her, some kind of basic recognition sparking what would pass as the gray matter in a Demon mind.

When the pause started to feel almost ridiculous in Vergil's opinion, he started to advance. Usually being the one to let his enemies come to him, he found his actions bordering on the edge of degrading to have to chase down an opponent. As he got within striking distance the creature started to move backward. Vergil had never in twenty years witnessed a sloth back down. They were brainless minions not capable of a higher cognitive function such as self preservation. They would follow orders; die if necessary but they would never willingly retreat.

Vergil practically chased the Demon down the driveway, before the Sloth somehow managed to leap back to the Demon world through an unstable portal in the middle of the adjacent road.

"You can get back by yourself can't you?"

Being more a statement than an actual question, the spirit vanished without even a hint of concern regarding Vergil's shock and absolute confusion. Nor had she paid any attention to the fact that he was now stuck out in the middle of nowhere. In fact, she had left in a rather big hurry.

Vergil was left there feeling more than humiliated, considering the only way he was going to get home was either hitch a ride with someone or take Devil form.

He made his decision as a whole steaming pool of bile in his gut signified the beginning of his change. Bones broke and slivered, cracking out violent screams from under his skin as they transformed into some unnatural shape; flesh twisted, creasing horrifically and hardening around vital areas with grotesque proportions of thickness over vital areas. The conversion of his physical body completed in harmony with the stretching of his enormous wings. He was a picture to behold.

Clutching both the box and the small bag he stepped up onto the roof of his trashed car before he finally broadened his wings to their fullest extent and pushed off the metal roof of his Lexus..

With the wind whipping at his spiked hair he made his way back in the direction of the city. As he flew in Devil form his buried anger began to almost burn him. She'd had the nerve to just leave him there. Not a single explanation as to what happened with that Demon was offered; nothing. Not only was he was losing the control in this situation, but he was losing control of himself and he wasn't welcoming the experience.

Keeping to the clouds he made it back to the city in a few minutes. The water vapor in the clouds soaking him to the core and letting his hair return to it's natural, straightened self. Landing on the roof of the building he could actually feel the water evaporate off him as he changed back. His simmering rage producing real heat; providing for further evaporation of the moisture he had encountered during his flight here. Leaning over the edge of the building and hoping the cool air would calm him down; he spotted a very distinctive car parked openly in the middle of the car park.

"Just what I need" He muttered to himself with what was a barely audible voice.

His teeth where clenched tightly while he spoke, a high indication of his anger level. On a one to ten scale he was about a nine.

He held back a rather stupid and pointless "why?" and merely took out Yamato. He wasn't in the mood to deal with uninvited guests. Let alone him.


	4. Appearances

Appearances 

With what could only be described as the near presence of a god, Vergil stood on the edge of the roof like some out of place trapeze artist. The wind bellowed under his still damp coat; whipping under the added weight of the rain it had absorbed creating a fine mist around him as it snapped almost silently at the end of each unfurling. His eyes were stealthily shaded and moved cautiously across the scenery that was the city below, scanning for any signs of human activity that may prevent him from committing to the actions he had planned for the next few upcoming moments. In truth he was annoyed with the fact that he even needed to scrutinize his surroundings so carefully and felt as if the hassle was more than he wanted to deal with in the first place. After being satisfied with the results of his surveillance, and without a second thought he stepped over and off the outermost lip of the brick bordered wall of the roofline.

Time stretched out for Vergil as fell. His superhuman senses registered the speed of the fall in what was nearly slow motion to him.

What plagued Vergil the most at this moment wasn't so much the effort he had made in returning to his home. Nor was he as bothered in having to conceal himself from humans with wandering eyes; it was the fact that someone other than the rather annoying female ghost he had recently gained as a roommate had discovered his whereabouts. Part of him wondered if he had somehow been careless enough to leave a trail. Or perhaps someone who merely passed along the information to the right people had spotted him. None of these scenarios seemed likely considering the attempt he had made to veil his presence within the confines of such a vast city.

His feet contacted the ground in perfect position as his musculature absorbed the impact without strain. With all the coordination and grace of a world-class gymnast he landed nearly silently.

Vergil knew after so many years of experience that dwelling on the insignificant, on the things he couldn't change, was pointless. Even more so pointless when you suddenly find yourself knee deep in as much crap as he was right now.

Walking in casually through the front doors; he entered his private elevator as he took note of the rather large, fist shaped hole in the control panel while mustering the self- control he needed to remain calm. Willfully forgetting the last few hours so his head could be clear for what was to come.

As the doors easily slid open he stepped out and was greeted to the face of a very familiar blond. Of course the use of the word _familiar _to describe his memory of her might be a bit more than misplaced in his mind, in the very least. As if the situation couldn't get any worse, the blond female had been accompanied by someone he wasn't exactly fond of. He was sure the feeling was mutual between them. In fact Vergil had often thought that he would rather take a trip back to hell than face this person. In keeping to his typical persona he greeted the couple with nothing less than politeness, albeit the courtesy with which he welcomed them was riddled with sarcasm.

"Surprises, surprises...hello brother!"

The casual yet cold tone Vergil adopted when speaking to his brother could be visually seen to eat into Dante's self control. To his younger brother, it reeked of that superior Demon bullshit. It smelled of arrogance.

"You seem to have a knack for untimely resurrections...I ever tell you that Verge!"

While Vergil was cold, calculating, disciplined and at times heartless; His brother was the complete opposite. A loud mouthed, sarcastic, take it easy, junk food eating, human wannabe.

While they where brothers and could get along quite easily if the mood took them, there was no enmity lost between them. They'd fought, and on more than one occasion come close to killing each other. To them, battle was the equivalent of a handshake, or a regular hello.

This time was no different.

Already Vergil's hand had started shifting ever so slightly to his sword hilt; Dante's fingers grazing the handles of his guns. Both brothers weren't even past the introductions and were already mentally gearing up for the forthcoming fight. Subconsciously they both moved cautiously, carefully eyeing the other in the event of any sudden movements. Like some deathly elaborate dance, the two of them lurked behind the façade of their own movements to better position themselves for what was sure to be an all out balls to the walls confrontation. Each of them slowly made subtle movements in respect to their combat readiness. Even the blond female began to put some distance between her and the two brothers in anticipation of what was most likely to be nothing short of an inhuman melee.

"Get on with it...I suppose you're here to do more than annoy me"

"But I only just got here...don't I get a hug?"

Vergil unsheathed Yamato and tried to ignore the flat box that floated in through an open window over Dante's shoulder. The same one he'd left absently on the roof, while choosing only now to drop the ballet shoes on the floor at his feet.

"You really want a hug...from me?"

Dante shook his head in obvious defeat. Despite his disappointment in not outdoing Vergil's sarcasm, his eyes pressed forth the enthusiasm he felt in the light of an upcoming fight.

"Fine... have it your way...but just for the record... I did try" Sneered Vergil.

As Dante was about to launch a preemptive strike, the blond accompanying him spoke up. Her voice seemed a little more than troubled at the moment.

"Ehh...Dante..."

Dante almost growled at the interruption but caught himself quickly before speaking.

The blond marched forward with her hands in the air as if being guided to do so by some as of yet unseen force. It wasn't until moving far enough into plain sight that the reason for her actions were clearly being driven by…a straight sword pointed directly at the back of her neck; the tip of which was firmly held in place by the hands of one very dead ballerina.

Dante fixed Vergil with a stare that would shatter stone.

"Vergil...leave her out of this."

Vergil rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"If the thing bowed to me I'd send it on a permanent vacation to hell"

Both brothers were once again close to killing each other when they heard it.

"So this is the idiot brother?"

The sword could be heard clattering to the ground as the apparition released its grip and moved forward. The blond woman, who was only moments ago the spirit's captive, had now retreated to a position with her back against a wall.

Dante let the breath he was holding go as he watched Trish distance herself from the sword. With Trish now out of harms way his mind actually started to process the implications, that _his brother_, was _sharing_ an apartment with a human spirit. His brain working to come up with some kind of explanation, could only figure she was some kind of ghostly guard and the question slipped out in a rather insulting, but wholly unintentionally rude way.

"Cute Verge…what's it supposed to be anyway…some kind of guard dog? Does it know any other tricks?"

The look of amusement on the specters face quickly escalated into one of absolute rage. As they all looked on, in what would pass as fearful alertness, the ground beneath their feet started to shake.

When the tremors ceased the temperature dropped about twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. The tiles lining the walls of the kitchen cracking, the very paint peeling off the walls and Vergil's antique chair bursting into flames.

At this stage Vergil was about to make some kind of smart remark about how Dante should learn to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately he didn't get the chance as Dante got a scimitar straight through the chest. The spray of blood across the room and the carpet was quite possibly the only upsetting factor of the scene, in Vergil's mind.

Able to sustain the most horrendous of injuries, Dante was still conscious and quite noticeably upset. Neither Trish nor Vergil paid him any heed; both of them being transfixed on the face of pure malice the one time ballerina wore. Making even more of the Demon shine through.

"Mind who you call 'guard dog' half breed...if it didn't involve industrial strength cleaner afterwards I'd cut you into so many different pieces right now."

The scimitar inched up slightly and twisted just a little, earning a muffled groan of pain from Dante while receiving a lusty smile from the Demon.

"In fact... screw the cleaner"

Dante had started staring at Vergil with all the promised pain of someone who's just been drenched with icy water in bed.

"Verge...call your _dog _off..._now_!!"

Vergil backed away from Gedran, with the blond woman following suit; this being a result of the female spirit's imposing black eyes suddenly becoming framed by rings of pure white.

The spirit walked slowly around Dante almost admiring the placement of the sword deep in his chest, before pulling it out forcefully. Despite being incorporeal the elegant fingers easily curled around the hilt before quickly yanking the weapon free. Dante could now clearly see those eyes and the animal snarl.

"You know, I never believed that you could actually be dumber than your brother...I'd always thought the line of Sparda would come with _some_ kind of intelligence..."

Although Dante' wanted to attack he found himself unable to move forward. He could hold his weapon but his body had stopped responding to any kind of aggressive commands. The closest thing to dread had him frozen in place.

"Vergil...you should be here to witness this...the _fun_ I'm going to have while breaking your brother..."

Dante had recovered enough will power and was now backing away towards the window; sword clutched tightly in hand, and unable to advance; not that he would be able to inflict any damage on someone who's already dead.

"I wonder what the breaking point will be for you...some men break under torture..."

The Demon put a pale finger to cracked lips thoughtfully before giving an almost childlike look of disappointment.

"No…you've that bastard blood in you, always a problem...that selfless nobility... but...the Sparda line does have _one_ weakness."

A wicked smile had spread across that decreasingly human face as it turned its head in slow motion toward the blond woman. Dante's eyes widened considerably.

"If I were to take a guess...and it's just a thought...but I don't think you'd like it if I where to rip out her heart and stuff it down your throat."

The half Demons blood, still dripping off the sword, grew hot with Dante's obvious anger and fear.

"Having one of the last feelings before I kill you, be her sweet blood rolling down your throat...hey... it worked with Sparda."

The sudden interruption got a growl of frustration from Gedran, black fire swirling behind the frighteningly unnatural orbs.

"Are you quite finished... or is having to suffer through your insane dribble supposed to make the damage to my penthouse seem more tolerable?"

Gedran turned snarling at him. Teeth bared and lips curling backwards ever so slightly.

"Did I ask for your opinion, _General! _Besides...I didn't get the chance to skin that little Shaman of yours...and I'm rather in the killing mood. Unless of course you're _volunteering_ to take your brothers place?"

Vergil sighed loudly. He'd sacrifice himself for nobody, not even his own brother.

"You really think you'll be able to hold on long enough to do all that. You know very well that it'll take a lot more than that to kill us...and I don't think you have that strength. Remember all that next time before you decide on using cheap tricks. Pathetic _and_ energy consuming"

Had this _not_ been an incorporeal, slowly weakening, very dead Demon. Vergil would have been saying the last part with several sharp objects protruding from a number of extremely painful areas. The following silence was all he needed to continue.

"Thought so...now...be a good little dead Demon and get lost!"

The face practically screamed bloody apocalypse, the look of "you die slow" etched into every square inch of the woman's features. Vergil loved seeing that look almost as much as being right.

A moment later the sword clattered to the ground and whatever had taken the appearance of the spirit had vanished. Leaving Dante bloodied and sweating. Trish pale as a ghost and Vergil with a rather irritating smirk.

"Verge...dear brother, _you_... owe me several drinks!"

Dante was examining the rip in his shirt and the blood covering him from the neck down. That and the thin red line on his chest; the only evidence of any injury. Vergil examined his ruined rug with the same attention to detail.

"Gedran? As in..._the_ General Gedran...brother of Faro...bringer of darkness...plague of ancient times...and _you _have _his_ Devil arm!"

If Dante was shocked that Trish had heard of this Demon he didn't let it show. She could pretty much give him a detailed list of every Demon, dead or otherwise. _If_ it was of a certain power level. That she was muttering all this in shock and horror indicated a possible problem.

"You know of him?" Asked Vergil, surprised that a mere construct would have knowledge of the ancient ones.

He'd searched through the libraries of hell finding all he could on possible threats; enemies of Sparda that might hold issue with him. He'd still only come up with the barest details.

"You _don't?_" Replied Trish while actually managing to mimic Vergil's tone and smug, superior expression perfectly.

Vergil, keeping his composure and voice unnaturally even, responded.

"Of course I know of Gedran... First General of Mundus...stabbed in the back by his brother."

Trish aggressively cut him off.

"If you knew the half of it you'd take a boat out and chuck that Devil arm in the deepest part of the ocean...that and pray...that that _thing _was never found again."

Vergil didn't appreciate being cut down by a demon product but his thirst for knowledge kept him silent, allowing Trish to continue. It was one of his rules, "know thy enemy".

"Gedran tried to overthrow Mundus...because Mundus wanted to rule over mankind while he sought to obliterate it. Call it a conflict of interests. There was a war among higher level Demons. When the dust cleared Gedran stood victorious...but before he could deliver the final blow, Faro, his own brother, put a blade in his back and Mundus arose to finish him off."

Trish pointed a shaking finger at the sword on the ground, her voice wavering for an instant.

"_That..._Devil arm was given to Faro, never to be used, only to safe guard. If Gedran, were ever to arise he'd take the throne of the underworld and bring the weight of hell down on earth. He'd kill everything. Good _or_ bad, all that interests him is death and blood. He killed enemies _and_ allies with _equal_ enthusiasm."

Dante seemed to be processing the reality of Vergil with a sword that could literally end the world. He found the thought more than troublesome. He just knew somewhere along the line, Vergil would try something.

"We're taking the sword." Said Dante assertively.

Vergil turned his back on his brother to replace Yamato on the mantle. Dante was in no fit state to fight him as an equal.

"I've a Shaman collecting the things necessary to destroy it...four or five more days and it'll be of no consequence."

Dante walked around Vergil so they could be face to face. His features so stern he looked almost identical to his twin.

"The only Shaman in the city, is that weasel in town. Shamans have a price..._Verge_. I hope you know what you're doing...that and I seriously hope you aren't planning something foolish. I mean we all know what happened last time _you_ got planning for the future"

Vergil became stiff and stone like at the mention of the cost. Somewhere along the line he'd forgotten the price for all this was someone's eternity.

"We've already agreed on a price...it'll be paid when he destroys the sword."

Dante was attuned to his reaction and sensed the sudden drop in temperature between them. His reply coolly delivered, almost overly so. It was a classic Vergil defense mechanism.

"What's the price, Verge?"

A high tension had risen in the room. Like static electricity it sparked between the brothers. Stuck in the middle, Trish could hardly stand it. It never made her feel so much like an outsider.

"I'm the payment..."

Both Vergil and Dante snapped their heads in the same direction. She was back and for a spirit she looked like shit.

"Isn't that right? You lying... _conniving_, bastard. I have every mind to lose my temper and let that _thing _come back and _rip_ you limb from limb."

Dante looked at Vergil in disgust. He had no idea why it still surprised him that Vergil, to this day, remained so indignant towards humans. Still he had no idea why Vergil thought of humans as a product to be used and discarded, bought and sold, even bartered and traded like cattle; but in the end it did still surprise him. It always did; and it always would.

"You...sicken me...I don't know why I expected you to be different, to have changed."

Vergil took the abuse his brother was giving him. Whether Dante knew it or not he'd always managed to extinguish any spark of humanity that Vergil had. Cornered and on the defensive he was the Vergil of yesteryear, cold, heartless, absolutely merciless. Forced to block all feelings because if he were to feel, Dante's words would have cut him to the core. With his humanity in check, there was nothing to stop him from sacrificing everything to achieve his goals and with Dante here; there was someone else to deal with Jamie's little problems.

"She'll be consumed either way...what does it matter who does it, except that my way the sword will be destroyed. It's the lesser of two evils, brother."

Dante's cerulean gaze was stern and fixed squarely on Vergil.

"It's still evil..._Verge_... so I'm _taking _the sword and you can tell that weasel of a Shaman if he wants his _payment_ he'll have to take a visit to my shop!"

Dante quickly wrapped the sword in his coat before handing it to Trish. As he turned to give his brother, what his mother nicknamed "the glare of doom"; he caught the bundle thrown at him. He looked vaguely puzzled for a second, finding a pair of ballet shoes inside.

"You want the sword, you get all that comes with it...including _her_."

Dante clutched the shoes tightly, taunting his brother to try something, anything; needing just one reason to take out his sword. Vergil did nothing, simply choosing to turn his back on his brother and occupy his time with cleaning his apartment. Both uninvited guests left without any further prompting from him.

After their departure, he absently started cleaning up. It was then that he found it. The weapon the ballerina had given him; the sword. Gold plated and expertly finished the sword was truly exquisite. Without even a seconds thought Vergil discarded it in a closet and closed the door. Distancing him from everything that reminded him of her, though unable to completely shake from his mind the look of utter betrayal he'd seen on her face.

"I'm such an idiot...obviously the part that sword keeps taking is my intelligence... and I can't believe that thing called _you _dumb!"

Dante and Trish were both silent the whole drive back to the shop. It hadn't gone as originally expected but that wasn't to say it had gone well. The only thing to break the silence was the odd remark from the "meals on wheels" ghost.

Pulling into the garage, both Demon hunters quietly exited the car leaving Jamie still sitting there, completely unnoticed. Had they paid closer attention to her they'd have noticed the occasional smirk slip past the illusion of confusion and betrayal.

Trish and Dante entered the main office of the shop to be greeted by two figures sitting cross-legged on the floor, battling it out on the playstation in the corner. Upon entering, the shorter of the figures leapt up to the piercing cries of "Mommy" and "Daddy". Dante was the first to be bombarded by the blond, seven year old girl. Trish well versed in the tactics of parenthood, instinctively hiding behind him to avoid the girls over enthusiastic and often violent greetings. The last time she received the greeting full on, she'd been knocked through the front doors.

The second figure to rise was of a seventeen-year-old boy, jet-black hair framing two odd colored eyes; obviously the babysitter.

"I don't know how you keep her out of trouble...I keep expecting to find the place in flames."

The boy ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

"The miracles you can work if you have enough chocolate..."

Dante would have to remember to speak to Darren's mother about the implications of bribing little girls with chocolate, right before bedtime. Especially ones that already have super strength, can electrocute things and have the ability to squirm out of any kind of trouble.

"Beat it... before I call your mom and tell her you dated a Demon."

The boy became instantly defensive,

"Hey...she was _not_ a Demon...she was possessed...there's a difference!"

Grabbing the outstretched notes the boy scrambled out the door hoping to god Dante didn't pick up the phone. When you're dealing with him you never know when he might just take up a threat for a bit of fun. Telling Lady that her son accidentally chatted up some possessed Demon worshipper would be entertaining to watch.

"Daddy, who's the pretty lady?"

Dante rolled his eyes. _Vergil_ had to cheese off the ghost and like always _he's_ the one dealing with the consequences.

"My names Jamie...and you are?"

Trish cut the ghost off sharply,

"_She_ is none of _your_ concern"

Trish was very concerned about having something so dangerous in her home, so close to her family. She just couldn't shake the feelings of unease that accompanied the apparition. Even though she couldn't sense the Demon energy anymore her stomach was doing flips.

The little girl on the other hand seemed to study the woman's face in a very, suddenly solemn way. All before she grabbed Trish's hand and began dragging her to the television. By changing the channel, she had found a special edition of the news seemingly able to command the attention of everyone present.

"...You're on the T.V"

_We come to you live, here at the funeral service of the late ballerina Jamie Bloom and her ten year old, younger sister Justine. Both found, earlier this week__ savagely murdered. _

_Only three hundred yards from their home__ their bodies where discovered in an old abandoned factory. __This disastrous event__ has shocked and bewildered a community while leaving colleague's and students in mourning. The police, who as of yet have no clues to the culprits, believe that the pair where forced to walk home after an apparent car theft. The vehicle found not two miles away and the culprits apprehended. A senseless and horrific tragedy._

_As you can see behind me, nearly half the city has come out to pay their respects to someone hailed as one of the greatest ballet dancers in the Country. __Jamie Bloom was a__n inspiration to countless young dancers __everywhere and someone__ who overcame a series of personal tragedies and hurdles to teach ballet to countless young __boys__ and girls. _

_Here's what one of her long time student's had to say earlier on._

A girl with short blond hair stood with mascara stains framing her green eyes as she talked about her instructor.

"Turn it off!"

They turned to see the woman holding her hands over her ears in blatant distress.

"TURN IT OFF!!."

Dante pressed the button so fast he was sure he'd broken something on the inside of the T.V. Trish was clutching Holly protectively. Her grip so tight, Holly was wincing.

Both Demon hunters sensed it now. The obviously disturbing images on the news shaking some of the control and allowed them a glimpse of the Demon seething underneath the image of the woman, like a parasite attached to her soul, pulling the strings. As if something was literally crawling under her skin. If Dante was to guess he would have bet on there being something more to all this.

The woman, however possible, noticed their reactions. In an instant the emotions had been pushed back into the oblivion they'd crawled up from, replaced with a cold hard glare. Like someone caught out in a lie she cut her losses and went on the defensive.

"You know...and I was doing so well. Shit!"

The image soon disappeared leaving Dante with a less than humorous expression and Holly with a few unintentional bruises.

The child seemingly unfazed broke the tension.

"Can I go to dance class?"

The child, having grown up in a Demon killing family, had been graced with the unusual ability to change the subject from the obviously troubling scenes she'd witnessed. Be it as it may this ability, or desensitization had often worried her parents.

Dante absently patted the little girl between her pigtails before pointing to her homework.

The situation was worryingly clear to him. Like a possession the Demon was wearing the soul of that woman like a second skin. She talked and sobbed but it wasn't real. It was just a trick. A maneuver his brother had already fallen for. But why all the deception? What was it trying to pull?

"Babe...see if you can find something about that Devil arm to help us. Vergil was right about one thing...it needs to be destroyed."

"It's the same...I'm sorry... but we _need _a Shaman to perform the ritual. Someone with experience channeling souls. If _we_ were to make a mistake the Demon essence would incinerate us and he'd be reborn."

Neither had slept much in three days. Trying to find another way to destroy the sword, one that didn't require Vergil's Shaman. They'd found nothing; if it was to be done it had to be done by Mitchell. Frankly Dante wanted nothing less than to let Vergil within a hundred feet of the sword. The Demons plan involved him, to what extent Dante didn't know, but putting them together was a definite blunder.

Listening to all of this the Demon made its calculations. Failing to fool the two Hunters had been problematic. Everything had gone so well up until that point. It would require all of his reserves of strength to fix it. But it could be mended; all it needed was the sword. The sword that had gotten clumsily passed from one hiding spot in the house to the next, it was the final piece.

At roughly three in the morning the sword floated out of the ventilation shaft and came to rest slightly above the image of the woman's outstretched hands. The woman's face became twisted in concentration as a glowing stream of energy flowed out of the sword and up her arms. When the air started rippling around the ghostly arms the sword was let go to fall but it never touched the ground. It plummeted through the rippling air and vanished.

A few moments later the spirit disappeared.

Vergil hadn't gotten much sleep. He couldn't believe he let his brother take the sword. After some research of his own he'd convinced himself that it was only a matter of time before Gedran managed to resurrect. He'd succeeded in binding himself to the physical plain via Jamie and would continue to get stronger until he reformed. Gedran's goals had indeed been much higher than that of consuming one pathetic human soul.

Vergil was no longer the naive man of his youth, while still plagued with lust for power, he had wisdom enough to realize that it was a simple illusion and truly was an unattainable goal. Unfortunately, this was one ideology Gedran didn't see as unattainable, considering his main motto was that "power is easily achieved when everyone else is dead". Hence the reason his reputation for being bloodthirsty was only overshadowed by his genocidal campaigns. Vergil didn't hold much love for humanity but if Gedran were reborn he'd destroy the human world and him along with it. Self-preservation was a good motivator.

So, knowing Dante wasn't going to ever sacrifice a human soul to do what needed to be done, Vergil was left with the near impossible task of breaking into his home and stealing the sword, all under the nose of two Demon hunters who wouldn't hesitate to kill him on sight. That wasn't even taking into consideration the clock ticking down. He had no doubts it could be done but everything came with a price.

Nearly drifting to sleep, the sudden gust of wind that blew around his bed had him standing, sword in hand.

Looking around his penthouse his eyes spotted the faint glow in the living room. Something was slowly shifting into being and as he got close enough to see, the sword appeared suspended in mid air and clattered to the ground.

Although too drained to appear, Jamie's voice echoed around the penthouse.

"Call your Shaman!"


	5. Meddling

**Meddling**

She was too quiet. Almost as though she'd forgotten to speak.

Not even when the Shaman appeared brandishing mystical repellants like bug spray did she appear.

Vergil was sure that the female spirit would have been present to make some remark or another about visible fear on the face of the Shaman, or even about _his_ own talent for treachery. Something, while the seal was prepared.. He felt almost expectant of some outburst and then oddly disappointed when there was nothing. Did he feel he needed to be punished for his actions? Did some part of him feel badly enough about the whole situation to warrant being verbally abused by this…ghost? Did he somehow feel that her stinging words were meant as a punishment of sorts? He dug deep within without even really acknowledging that he had done so and discovered that there was no definitive answer as to how he felt. Only one question continued to return to his conscious mind. Was _he_ ashamed?

"Show yourself... or I'll tell him to stop" Demanded Vergil. 

A faint shadow rose out of the floor; having no real shape, no color, just an outline of a person. Not exactly what Vergil would accept as an appearance.

"No more games...I want to see you..._now!_" Spoke Vergil with a strong emphasis on the word now.

The shadow became almost tangible and he was faced with a traitorous glare.

"There isn't any time for your _bullshit_...I spent the last part of me dragging that heavy ass sword here. I want it done..." Replied the entity with an unusually authoritative tone.

Vergil felt her stare burrow under his skin in a far from pleasant way. Something was off. He tried to place it as another of those fickle Human emotions; he wanted to believe but wasn't having much success.

"You wouldn't be feeling guilty, would you?" Asked Vergil sarcastically.

She gave him a look of mild annoyance along with a whispered reply.

"Whatever... just get on with it."

The Shaman broke Vergil's inward silence as he contemplated her rash, confusing behavior.

"I'm ready...that is, if the two of you are quite finished."

The Shaman got a ghostly echo of "choke on me, asshole" combined with a reluctant nod from the half Demon.

Vergil stepped up to the pentagram, expertly drawn on the floor with colored sand. Taking out a knife he made a shallow cut in his hand; this would be one of the requirements needed to seal in the Demon essence. The same was needed to destroy the sword, and Vergil being only half-Demon had become slightly concerned. Noticing Vergil's slight apprehension, the Shaman then assured him that his half-Demon blood would be more than sufficient for such a small seal.

Trailing a line of blood around the outside of the symbol, Vergil retreated while the Shaman eagerly got to work. This was done by first placing the sword in the pentagram's center before surrounding it with varying talismans and other rather Demonic looking body parts.

The chanting began and to Vergil it seemed as though time sped up outside the room. He watched the moon move steadily across the sky in mere seconds, before seeing the first glimpses of the sun, illuminate the horizon. His penthouse had become a place existing out of time with the rest of the world.

Still, the balding man crouched cross-legged on the floor and continued chanting. The words were spoken so fast that they were nearly unrecognizable. He would remain in line with the outside world while the area surrounding the shimmering pentagram almost ground to a halt.

Vergil was intrigued; after all, to witness such a unique time dilation was once in a lifetime stuff, even for a Demon.

"You need to stop this." Came the more than familiar female voice from behind him.

Vergil turned to find her walking up behind him, caught in the same time differentiation as him. Oddly, she seemed almost as real as he knew he was. It was almost as if he could reach out and actually find something there; perhaps he could even touch what he now thought was her physical form.

"Stop this!!"

She'd spoken again sensing his split attention .

"What?" Asked Vergil.

That was the only response Vergil could muster and it was brief and confused at best, her request just seemed bizarre; considering she was the one who brought the sword to him in the first place.

"Stop him..."

Vergil was getting a headache trying to figure out what she had meant with that request; what was she up to, and what consequence would it have. When she failed to further elaborate on the subject he turned and walked away; speaking away from her but with words she was more than meant to hear.

"Why? Not scared are you?"

A firm and desperate grip spun him around. He was faced with a fierce, angry glare.

"...I didn't bring it here...he did!! He did it all... coming here, tormenting you...all of it... I tried to warn you...I fought...he was stronger... Stop this!!"

Vergil felt his stomach lurch. His insides tightened painfully as he recognized the sincerity in her face. The same brown-eyed features he thought he was familiar with were now so different from before. The darkness was now gone, and in its place was a more mature gaze, framed by a few creased worry lines. Vergil spun on his heel so fast, if he where human he'd have given himself whiplash. He eyes widened considerably when he spotted what he should have been paying attention to all along.

The seal, it was failing. The Shaman was still sitting there, sweat dripping off his brow, hands trembling with the effort of trying to keep it up, but in it's center an eight foot clone of Faro was forming in the ether. Clawing at the barrier Vergil's blood formed. Red eye's laughed at the pathetic human Shaman who thought he could contend with _him._

Gedran's smile widened as he vaguely gazed at Vergil, feeling more than superior with his ability to manipulate the son of Sparda the way he had, and knowing full well that taking advantage of Vergil's humanity, what little there was of it, is what made it all happen.

In the next few moments a number of things occurred. The seal broke and the Demon Gedran was finally resurrected in a sudden blast of energy that blew out the side of the penthouse.

The Shaman was incinerated where he sat and both Dante and Trish who'd just stepped out of the elevator a split second later where blown back in. Vergil didn't remember moving but was suddenly aware that the leg of a kitchen stool was protruding from his chest as he'd obviously been blown into the kitchen.

Standing and pulling the object sharply out of his ribs; he walked, in sync with both Dante and Trish, back into the living room to face the thing that gave Demons nightmares.

Neither of them spoke to each other. Although Dante gave his brother one of those "we'll speak later...right before I kill you" looks. The group simply stared at the Demon as it flexed its new body and evaluated its still hardening armor.

"So, you'd be Gedran. I gotta say, I expected something...well...more, to be honest"

Dante, as always, struck first with his tongue. If he'd been expecting to draw Gedran into a fight while he was obviously still weak; he didn't get the reply he'd hoped for.

"That it...'something more'...really, how childish. Do you really expect to berate _me _into fighting you _now..._when I'm obviously at the disadvantage? No, Son of Sparda...I will fight you how and when _I_ choose to do so. When _you_ are weak and _I_ am strong."

He was smart, and suffered from no ego. It was like looking at the mirror opposite of Mundus. The Demon caught on to the very surprised glares he was getting.

"Didn't expect that, did you? I can assure you, death comes with humility...that... and _all _the time in the universe to plot a comeback."

The Demon chuckled and kicked his feet at the ashes on the floor; the last remains of the Shaman.

"Shaman's are totally unreliable...the only thing you can really count on is their greed."

Vergil put on his game face. Ice cool and complete confidence.

"You plotted all this from the beginning"

Gedran actually bowed at Vergil's rather "matter of fact" statement.

"She really gave me the opportunity...to be completely fair. Souls _taken_ never have quite as much power as souls offered. We made a little deal...whether she knew it or not she offered me the use of her soul in exchange for my brother's destruction. It was really a win, win situation."

A wicked grin spread across his face, as he began to open a portal.

"You both really are quite dumb!"

Dante tried firing at Gedran but the bullets where sucked into the swirling portal he was very strategically opening in front of himself.

"I'd stay and wait for your comeback to that but I do believe there's a certain army waiting for a leader...although, I think I'll leave you with a parting gift...that is...before I come back and start the _real_ party"

They could see various Demons appearing around the room and on the streets below. There were hundreds of them, everything from Marionettes to Blood Goats. They had virtually no chance of containing them all. While they would certainly win, there was going to be casualties. A lot of casualties.

Acutely aware of the surroundings Vergil spotted movement on the floor behind Gedran. Something pale and sluggish began crawling to its feet. While the portal made the image waver he finally came to notice what it actually was.

"This wasn't what I wanted!" Screamed the image from behind both Gedran and the portal.

The Demons holler of pain and rage caused the portals to all but collapse. His control was seriously diminished as the pale female figure shoved his discarded scimitar through the still soft armor covering his exposed back.

: With an effortless twist of his giant, meat hook of a hand, he grabbed the woman's arm and flung her into the nearest already closing portal. Surprise and absolute rage were evident across Gedran's snarling features as he was ultimately faced with the decision, to stay and gloat, or risk becoming stranded with three very dangerous Demon killers. Needless to say his final choice was to very wisely retreat. The surrounding demons sensed that Gedran's departure was their unspoken command from him to attack.

In those few moments after Gedran had withdrawn all hell had broken loose in Vergil's apartment. The occasional screams from the streets below completed the whole nightmarish scene as the fight had closed in from all sides.

Vergil's first thoughts, while he parried the downward blow of a Marionette, seemed to have been of the human woman. He had actually felt a living presence rise from behind Gedran. She was alive, an obvious consequence of the spell but whether she was still human, well, that was another thought altogether. That spell was for reviving Demons, crafting the Demon bodies from the residual essence lingering in the ether. It would have used Gedrans energy infused with the sword to bring him into being. Vergil had to ask himself, what did it make her new body out of. These waves of thoughts crashed down on him as he dodged the second swing from the marionette all before dismembering it. Both motions of his blades seemingly mingled into one fluid move. Both defense and attack blended seamlessly in this devastating form of sword work.

In a matter of minutes the penthouse had become a battlefield. The crystallized Demon blood that was slowly becoming plentiful under his feet had started making Vergil's footwork clumsy. The sudden loss of traction as he backed away from an oncoming strike had left a large cut scored across his vest. The skin healing instantly underneath it, but that was behind the point. It was cramped, too cramped.

"While I do certainly enjoy the vision of you using my antique chairs as wooden clubs I think it's time for a change of scenery."

Dante, who was of course across the room beating back Demons with one of Vergil's mahogany chairs, had been having the same problem. When Demons are killed the body disintegrates and leaves behind some crystallized blood. After so many kills the residue was building. It was turning into a lake, with rivers of the stuff cascading off the side of the building. Flowing freely onto the street through the gapping hole in his living room, mixing on the concrete with the gathering pools of human blood.

Dante was the first to take the hint. In a perfectly natural maneuver he withdrew Ebony and Ivory, a slight smile gracing his blood speckled face.

"Babe...ladies first"

Trish halted her ritualistic frying of the nearest incapacitated Marionette to turn to Dante.

"Ladies what?"

The blond found herself on the receiving end of a brisk shove and Dante could have sworn he saw something akin to a smile cross Vergil's lips as the woman was sent stumbling out the massive hole and down towards the ground. Super sensitive hearing easily picked up her pissed ranting from the street down below.

"Charming..."

With only a moment left before casually jumping through the hole in his living room; he peered at his brother with a stare that dared Dante to just try and push him. Of course, he knew that Dante had already considered it, but for some reason or another had avoided the urge to shove him through the gaping expanse. It crossed his mind that perhaps his brother wasn't quite the same person he'd remembered..

Vergil landed almost silently on the pavement. The only real sound had been the soft splash as his feet landed in an inch deep pool of sticky, coagulating blood.

Typically he was always able to beat down the weakness of things such as sympathy and empathy. What Vergil found himself witnessing threatened to tear him in two. He'd watched both the annoying ballerina and her sister be killed with little more than curiosity. Yet he found the devastation on such a large scale to be almost more than he could contain.

Buildings where aflame, the fire exacerbating the stench of blood that lined the walls and floors within. The same reek of death, attacking his senses with greater affect than any Demon attack he'd ever been subject to. Long suppressed memories of his past flashed across his mind. The images of a sky on fire, blood coated hallways and a child screaming, hit him like a punch to the gut. He forced it aside but couldn't turn away from the scene.

He swallowed, nothing he'd ever seen, nothing he'd imagined could compare to the true reality of this. It was chaos, yet more than that; it was a bloodbath. While the Demon within seemed to want to almost revel in the dense cloud of fear drifting down the streets, it wouldn't allow itself to. It wouldn't be urging Vergil to join the fray, nor wallowing in the madness. And that's what this was…madness.

Without realizing it Vergil had begun to move from his landing spot. Eyes unaware of the fight that both his brother and Trish where now engrossed in. Footsteps leaving a bloodied print as he walked on.

As he passed a stationary car his eyes flickered to the interior as his feet crushed the large pieces of shattered glass that littered the ground around the vehicle. A lone, blood covered teddy bear sat motionless in the mangled child car seat. Trails of blood lead from the car, and up the wall of the nearest building, obviously to where the Demon would feed.

For a second it seemed as though the weight of the world crashed down on Vergil's shoulders. In actual fact it was more like the weight of his conscience that sent him to his knees. His head was spinning, and his stomach was once more rolling with nausea. It had struck him right there at that precise moment that this was his fault. No one else could be blamed for it, no justification could be made, and there was no way to appease the Human side with some half-truth. Ultimately, there was no way to make himself feel better.

He'd always understood that Human's didn't choose to be weak, nor did they choose Sparda as a protector. They got on with life as best they could; yet he'd hated them for what could not be changed. He'd spent his life defying his own rules about wasting your energies on the inevitable. He was a hypocrite...and now he was forced to look what his ignorance had done, and at the needless slaughter his pride had caused. He was now faced with the sorrow he'd just helped unleash on the world, all because his preconceptions of Human weakness had allowed the Demon to play him. Up until now he'd ignored his emotions to the point where he no longer recognized the sincerity in others, and no longer could he separate the truth from the lies. The story of his life.

Rising to his knees he pushed the bile back down and once more faced the devastation that he'd caused. The flashes that had assaulted him a few minutes previous came back now, albeit slower and with less physical push. These visions remained the same as before; a burning sky, a crying child, blood, and the memory of the last few minutes leading up to this very moment; quite possibly the end of the known world. A voice from behind dragged him back to reality, back to the sounds, the smells. After only a moment more of thought he realized the voice was calling his name.

"Vergil!!"

Vergil turned to see his brother stalking up behind him. Something on Dante's face betrayed his concern.

He came to a stop beside Vergil, taking in the scene with cold eyes. Those same eyes that then traced Vergil's gaze up the building.

"The building will have to be cleared before it nests...you can do what you want 'til I'm finished... just don't go too far... I have questions"

The way Dante said it left Vergil with no illusions about how that conversation was going to end. He could already hear the clash of steel in his mind.

"This was never my intention."

The words of defense slipped out before Vergil could stop them. His voice rang out over the distant screams and holler of police cars stopping Dante mid step in his departure.

Dante turned sharply to face his brother.

"I don't deal with intent...only with consequence"

Turning his back on his brother he pressed on with the extermination. Leaving Vergil standing at ground zero with the destructive knowledge that this was simply a taste of what was to come. The prologue of Gedrans opening act.


	6. Family Matters

**Family Matters**

The subtle shifting of Vergil's feet brought yet more cracks from the glass underfoot. He was still tuning out the nightmare unfolding around him. Trying to find that center. That place in his mind where he could banish all the feelings and focus on thoughts and perceptions. Every single time he got close, another piercing scream would drag him back out again. Back down to the harsh reality of his mistake.

It had always been his ambition to rule and to tower over both worlds as the ultimate deity, to have power over time itself. Yet, such goals seemed trivial when compared with the consequences. Was this the price of such desires? Desires that he'd long come to realize were the illusions of the greedy and the insane. It seemed that the Universe was not without a sliver of irony. To have such powerful beings behaving in a manner akin to a lowly animal chasing it's tail. That attaining power and keeping it can be so different.

In his mind it seemed that time had lost all it's meaning. It could have been hours since Gedrans resurrection or merely minutes, he'd been so focused on the scene before him he could no longer tell. An advanced form of shock had set in, whilst his conscious mind tried to deny the feelings that seemed to choose now as the perfect time to surface.

With an uphill struggle Vergil managed to find that higher ground in his own mind. He would usually find peace there. A vast emptiness where he could think without complication but all he found was anger. A rage consumed him that he could only now begin to quantify. _He'd_ been manipulated. _He'd _been tricked. Been used and then absentmindedly discarded. For crying out loud the Human had been of greater value to the Demon than he.

It was on that thought that Vergil exploded, turning and kicking the car behind him. So much force was served into the blow that the vehicle was sent rocketing across the street to end up wrapped around a telephone pole. The pole itself was now tilting off at an odd angle.

There was no doubt that Vergil despised Humanity. Seeing it's flaws and hating it's weaknesses, but even he was able to consider the possibility of a truce in favor of destroying a common enemy. Gedran was that enemy. The Demon who thought he could make a fool of a son of Sparda and live to gloat.

Vergil began to pour all his sorrow and hatred into that one focus. To his certain relief the sounds and smells began to loose their strenuous hold on his Human half. Unsheathing Yamato and straightening his posture he made his decision. He was going to tear each and every Demon apart until Gedran showed.

Not usually the emotional type, Vergil found himself a little disturbed by his own rage. The heat flowing through his veins, lending him more power, more strength than he'd ever had before. A wild and unnerving thought immediately calmed him down and made him aware of something he'd almost overlooked. '_I'm acting like Dante!' He thought out loud._

Vergil walked forward through the building's archway, following the footsteps of his younger twin. Already the copper tang of Human blood was lingering on the tip of his tongue. His ears easily picked up the gunfire coming from the floors above. The sounds of his brother battling his way through God knows what. The occasional period of silence told every fiber of Vergil's being that Dante was taunting a Demon that probably didn't even speak English. Most of these were creatures with no understanding of the spoken word. These were beings whose native language was only that of blood. He'd always found his brothers need to vocalize and insult rather pathetic, yet at the moment he found himself incapable of those type of superior thoughts.

He'd seen just how much Dante had matured. The once reckless smart ass, who basically climbed a tower of doom, just to scuffle with his twin, had now become a reserved adult. Still, as always he was a smart ass, but one that now put his priorities in proper order. Vergil was a second priority in comparison to the hell erupting around the once respectable area. The younger Dante would have taken out his guns regardless of all that and started a fight right there and then. His once crazy...well, crazier twin had changed so much in twenty years. Even a chance to pair off against his elder brother didn't tempt him away from the task at hand. Vergil was pretty sure that hell had just frozen over.

Dante had never seen this type of Demon before. After twenty odd years of hunting, that alone was something extraordinary. How in earth he'd missed a Demon this ugly, with this many heads and tentacles, in his numerous journeys in hell was a complete mystery. Frankly no matter how drunk he'd been he'd have recalled a meeting.

Every time he managed to cut off one head, two more would grow back, it was turning into a really irritating fight. Then all these tentacles just kept getting in his way; that combined with the lack of space made the situation dire. There was some kind of slime dripping off the walls as well; he wasn't even going to mention that at the moment. If Gedran had more Demons like this it was going to get pretty rough. He considered briefly asking Vergil for help but quickly thought better of it. He might actually forget the Demon and kill his moron of a brother instead.

Dante refocused to quickly cut away a slimy tentacle crawling its way up his leg, momentarily diverting his attention, he missed the second one that forcefully smashed across his chest and sent him hurtling off his feet. Dante passed through, what he managed to count as three separate walls, before sliding to a stop at pair of boots. His eyes staring up into that oh so familiar smirk. As his lungs protested the inhalation of the equivalent of a bag of plaster dust.

"I made a friend...give me a minute to put myself back together again and I'll introduce you two."

Dante's remark went unnoticed as he pulled himself off the ground, dusting himself down and wiping away bits of plaster and steaming yellow Demon chunks. Vergil hadn't bothered responding to the comment. His icy eyes instead staring through the body shaped holes at the Demon now returning to its grisly feast.

"Hmm...they're awake!" Vergil's words where laced with a mixture of caution and curiosity. Both of which where lost on his brother who was resetting some bones.

Dante rolled his neck and looked at Vergil with a once more somber expression.

"You planning on finishing that comment with something useful?" Dante coldly remarked

Vergil sneered back at Dante before his lips twitched up into the closest thing to a smile Dante had ever seen before he finally continued.

"The last time I saw them they'd been imprisoned in stone. Not that l ever _wanted_ to have to deal with a Hydra. As far as I can recall they spit paralyzing mucus."

Dante looked disgustedly at the Demon, eyes half closed in mild annoyance.

"Just **once** I'd like to kill a mucus free Demon...so...how do you kill a mucus spitting, head regenerating Hydra?"

Above Vergils head a glowing dagger had begun to form out of the ether. With the barest motion of his hand he sent it flying through the hole, the projectile striking the hulking mass of flabby skin that would pass as a body. Weapon sinking deep before it finally dissipated.

Dante fought the urge to cover his ears as the creature let loose its dying screams. Yellow, puss like blood spouting from the mortal wound, like a fountain. Its entire body deflated like a punctured balloon.

"Aim for the heart...I would have thought after all those bullets that you might have at least struck it by chance?" Vergil smirked.

Dante's expression was far from amused. Borderline homicidal was closer to the mark than anything. Dante answered Vergil with an almost whining remark.

"I didn't ask for a demonstration."

Vergil held back a grin. If they where going to kill each other they would have to join a queue; that steadily increasing line of Demons waiting to do it first.

* * *

"DANTE...DANTE!!"

After the building had been cleared both brothers had gone their separate ways. Each taking a nearby street and systematically eliminating the Demons that had popped up, until they were sure they were gone. Dante had been heading out of the last complex when Trish had practically plowed into him screaming. She was frantic.

"We have a problem!!"

Dante was acutely aware of the loss of feeling in his fingers as Trish's grip on his upper arm began cutting off circulation.

"Slow down, babe! You run into trouble?"

Trish shook her head barely able to formulate words she was so stricken with panic. When her voice did come back it was a harsh croak.

"No ones answering at the shop!"

All previous thought of a second sweep of the area was gone. Dante, forgetting about the numbness traveling up his arm or the few frightened people that had managed to survive and were emerging from their hiding spots, became serious. The pair now oblivious to the questioning faces and accusing stares pointed at them.

"If something happened Darren would have taken Holly back to his house where she'd be safe...!"

Trish was nodding, head down, concealing the few tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. Hiding her undeniable fear. Dante pulled her chin up.

"Remember the last Demon Holly met?"

Trish let out a choked laugh. Not succeeding in hiding her near overwhelming fear.

"I remember the mess!"

Even though it was accidental, Holly had barbecued the first and only Demon she'd ever come into contact with. When it appeared out of thin air and startled her it had met with a subsequent 100,000 volts. Oddly, that was the last Demon to ever turn up unannounced at Devil Never Cry.

"Besides...she's in good hands with Darren and his mom."

Trish didn't like admitting it but he was right. Darren's house was a Demon free zone thanks to nearly twenty years of accumulative Demon warding spells. His mother was a tightly wound bitch if ever Trish had met one but she took her sons safety very seriously. Her maternal need to protect often bordering on paranoid and extremely homicidal. Dante had made a joke one year about introducing Darren to some cute Demon he knew and she'd put two bullets in his head, all the while aiming a third one at his crotch. Trish remembered him muttering something about how "it was just a joke" and how she should "lighten up". Let's just say that third bullet ceased to be a threat and became a very painful reminder of what subjects not to push in a crazy woman's house.

"Darren?" Asked Vergil as he calmly approached the surprised couple.

Oblivious to the surroundings now, the pair failed to see the arrival of Vergil. Demon blood and mucus still matting his hair and staining his coat. A questioning glint appeared in his eyeful expression as he tried to wipe the tar like substance from his sword.

Dante was torn between letting his unpredictable brother out of his sight or the risk he might pose to his newly formed family. Plus there was that threat Darren's mother made towards Dante should he ever bring trouble into her house... that was, should he ever bring trouble into her house _again_!

He knew that whatever Vergil did or was planning to do it would be better if he saw it coming. He made his choice.

"Darren's...a friend! I left a few things at his house we're going over there to collect!"

Vergil unsurprisingly didn't believe Dante. What he did believe was that Dante wasn't going to just let him walk off. He'd need his energy for the fight to come. To bicker now was a waste of his time. He wasn't going to be doing that again anytime soon.

"Always the trusting fool" Vergil let this be his version of a " fine lets go!"

His mind was still unwilling to give in to anything or anyone for that matter. Yet reluctantly he followed Dante and Trish back to ground zero. The pair getting into their car while Vergil was forced, due to his accident in the woods, to climb into the back seat. One more thing he would be adding to his "Reasons for killing Gedran" list; the unnecessary and untimely destruction of his car. He couldn't deny that the destruction of his car had severely assaulted his unique sense of style, and what was worse had actually managed to sting somewhat deeply. Not to mention the possibility of Dante never letting him live it down.

"Comfy back there" Dante really was never going to let this go. Those three little words assured Vergil to the humiliating fact.

He didn't even bother to reply. Choosing to meditate, using the growing distance between the area and it's grisly sights to aid his search for some inner quiet. It had been nearly an hour drive in total, very welcome silence before they arrived at their destination.

Vergil couldn't say what he'd been expecting. Although had you asked him to make a guess; this wouldn't have been anywhere in his answer.

"Welcome to Suburbia Hell" were the words that immediately struck him. It was the suburbs, but with almost every house on the wide, long streets, boarded up. Only the occasional flickering lights and slight movement of a neighbors curtains spoke of any living occupants, in what to all eyes would appear to be a ghost town.

"Where are we?"

Vergil kept his questions brief. He had no reason to be eloquent or to elaborate on his curiosity.

"Just outside of town...people have a tendency to leave when they find no one responding to the 911 calls about their mutilated pets"

Vergil couldn't argue with the common sense in that statement. It was smart. His only question would have concerned those who didn't move.

It would seem his brother had anticipated that question as well, answering the unspoken query without any prompting.

"The ones who don't...they either can't afford to... or are too crazy!"

Vergil heard Trish mutter something under her breath. Not entirely audible to a normal humans ear.

"Crazy is an understatement!"

Vergil watched Dante walk up the driveway and halt a moment half way up before continuing. Curiously he watched Trish halt in exactly the same place before moving. As he cautiously followed he found himself stopped in the same place as though he'd run into a wall of Jello. It was magic...very old, very powerful. He was only delayed a moment before the barrier dissipated and he was allowed to pass. It had reacted to his Demon blood, his human half satisfying the ancient magic and bringing the wall down. Had he been a full Demon he didn't want to think what could have happened. What that magic would have done to him. He'd witnessed something similar turn a Blood Goat inside out before. An amateur had performed that spell. A professional job like this was capable of untold destructive power should it be provoked. This was the perfect place to protect something from a Demon. He just couldn't figure out what could be so important to his brother that he'd risk the wrath of the old magic by crossing such a barrier.

His questions could wait as he approached the doorway. The smell of chocolate chip cookies sparked a sense of familiarity. Although, he couldn't off hand ever recall eating them.

The house was dimly lit, warm, soothing, homey. It was only the tension in the air that tainted what would have passed as a picturesque family home. It was heavy, and he could smell lingering traces of Demon blood over the heavy scents of chocolate and uncooked dough.

His brother had stopped in the hall and Vergil could have sworn in the way Dante had positioned himself in front that he was shielding him from sight. Trish as usual had backed off and was halfway across the living room. A very worried expression crossed her ageless face.

"Step aside!"

The brisk feminine voice commanded a fearless authority Vergil had only ever heard in the soulless Demons and the seriously disturbed. The voice was of someone who regularly laughed at death, someone who spent their life with the realization that age wouldn't factor in their final moments of life. This was the voice of someone who never expected to live this long.

Dante stiffened but did as he was ordered. Leaving Vergil face to face with a set of multicolored eyes. Aged by both time and the untold horrors they had witnessed and would never share with the world. He stood toe to toe with the woman he had once known as Mary Arkham.

She was human, though even he could tell that the many years had taken a toll on what remaining humanity she'd had left after delivering the final blows to her own father. She'd thinned out since he'd seen her last, all those years ago. She was more sinewy, the scar across her nose noticeably visible when placed against the now more defined cheek and jawbones. He wouldn't have recognized her had it not been for her trademark eyes; the eyes of her traitorous father. She was good back then, inexperienced but a talented fighter. He was doubtless in his thoughts that she would be experienced by now. Those eyes that once bore her rage and loss like serving platters where now shielded. The only sign of her impending wrath was the slowly rising tension. Her body stiffened, her jaw clamped down.

Then he saw it, the single moment where she allowed him to see her rage; and her anger. He saw how capable it was of consuming everything that stood in its path. The sudden and rapid expression had caught Vergil off guard. His eyes so blinded by her undiluted hatred that he never even saw her move the gun into position and fire.


	7. Hunter's Return

AN: Sorry about the massive delay. Really, I've just been swamped at work. I won't promise much, but the next chapter should be up in a few days.

**Hunter's return**

"YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE BROUGHT HIM HERE!!"

The woman's voice dripped with poison. Her hands visibly shook with an almost uncontrollable urge to wrap her callused, aged fingers around the man's throat and choke the life out of him. She wanted nothing less than to see his eyes dull and feel his heart's last, fearful beats as she killed him. He had been, in part, responsible for some of the darkest days of her life. She'd felt so burdened with guilt after the demise of her father. She had become even more consumed with rage when she thought of all the ways this monster standing before her had aided him in his quest for absolute darkness.

The sound of the gunshot was still ringing in his ears as Vergil distastefully wiped the sliver of wet blood from his forehead and rubbed the sore healing spot. She'd shot him right between the eyes before hastily discarding the gun and lunging at him with the ferocity of some kind of wild animal. Dante had intervened, barely managing to step in, practically catching her around the waist, mid air in her fury filled attack. Now she was pacing in the living room like some trapped beast. Her whole body suffering with tremors she was fighting to control. Dante tried to reason with her, attempted to calm her down. The look of growing menace in her narrowed eyes spoke volumes about the half demons success.

"You need to calm down...please!!"

Lady halted mid step, only one eye visible from underneath the unruly hair that had fallen out of the pony tail and was now hugging her sweat clad face. That one eye becoming stony as she reluctantly obeyed and took a seat.

"You have sixty seconds to convince me not to kill him right here...right now!"

Vergil's face betrayed his feelings in relation to his obvious doubts. Although...he had noticed that both his brother and the blonde where taking this threat seriously. Combined with the powerful magic guarding this place, that couldn't bode well for him.

"A new demon's taken the throne of the Underworld...we need everyone."

Lady leaned forward in the chair, her eyes obscured by strings of raven hair and her mouth twisted into a sinister line. Her voice was hardly above a whisper.

"We don't need _him_."

Vergil frowned, Dante acted as though he'd agreed to help with anything. While he was more than willing to orchestrate any destruction meant for Gedran, he didn't like the presumption. What he didn't like either, was being in the dark. Exactly what power had this woman attained, that he didn't know about? What was it about this human, about this place that was presently making his halfwit brother so nervous. Not usually one for rash decisions Vergil came to a reluctant conclusion. He needed to see Arkham's hand before he could progress past this and start planning for more important problems.

"Exactly, _how_ do you plan on beating me? You haven't decided to follow in your fathers footsteps, have you?" Lady glared." Thought not. Just another pathetic Human."

Had Vergil been watching the face of his brother more closely, he'd have seen not only the patient expectation of such a comment but the creeping concern as well. The grating sound of the woman's voice secured his attention.

"I don't have to be. See...you're in my home now."

Vergil would have stepped forward to make his taunt even more pronounced but his feet had suddenly become routed to the floor. Like he'd taken a stroll through tar before entering her home, he found that movement from the spot where he stood was now near impossible. He spared a glance down. As per usual shock didn't willingly show itself in Vergil's expression. His stoic features were, instead twisted into a cold fury as he watched the floor ripple with movement as it began creeping up his legs. Before he could even reach for Yamato he found that the rising tentacles from the once solid floor had already trapped one hand. He fought but quickly realized that the more he struggled the faster this prison consumed him. His eyes then met Lady's gaze, as he perceived a righteous smile break that wall of a face. He watched her eyes light up at the notion that the mighty Vergil, might just be afraid.

"Like my home?"

The words fell from Lady's mouth wanting no reply, not that he could even if he wanted to. The casing had crept up covering his mouth and ceasing, thankfully, just below the nose. He was trapped. Both he and Lady knew it. Lady chose to aggravate him further by giving her full attention to his brother, Dante. Her vengeful nature, sated for the time being; it was more than obvious that the half Demon wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

"You were talking about a new player. Well...who is it this time?"

Vergil quietly struggled. The substance had hardened some time ago, immobilizing him in what he could only describe as it's unbreakable grip. He had found his brother arguing on his behalf, strange as it seemed, but the woman was, at present unmovable in her decision. It was degrading to be in such a position...yet at the same time it was enlightening. He'd figured out what this was... the barrier...the creeping floors. While it was good to know he found that the revelation was simultaneously disturbing.

The house was a construct. Something made entirely of magic and able to change its shape and texture...change its very purpose at command. A family home one minute and a weapon another. Vergil had been in the presence of such magic before but never had it been in the human realm. A place of such concentrated power was unstable. While it's capable of great and awesome displays it requires great strength to maintain. So much power in fact, that all the constructs in the Demon realm had needed to leech magic constantly from their creator, simply to remain in existence. He wasn't simply dealing with Mary Arkham while he was here. He was dealing with something old and supremely powerful. Some entity capable of sustaining all this and a Demon barrier as well was at work here. It would seem that Gedran wasn't the only player in this game.

Lady was far from amused. It was 5 o' clock in the morning and she'd just been informed that not only had the bad ass of all bad ass Demons managed to climb back into power but that he'd already set loose Demons in the city. That combined with the lunches she had yet to organize for school, the lack of sleep and the fact that Vergil, of all half Demons was trapped in her living room, well, it was all making her a tad irritable.

She'd had plenty of time to cool down since their arrival; her mind once more working with regular clarity but she couldn't deny the slow, twisting, viper of rage that was snaking it's way back into her thoughts. Her heart was now torn between killing him right now, or honoring the trust Dante had shown by bringing him here. She still wasn't sure if that was ever going to assert itself as a good idea, but it was forgivable.

"Ok...so...what if we do..._need_ him. How do you expect to keep him in line? Last I saw of him he was out to destroy the world! He can't be trusted."

Dante felt as though a ton of bricks had just been heaved off of his shoulders. He was very relieved to know that he hadn't managed to lure his brother to his death; a death at the hands of a cookie baking, demon killing madwoman. His reply was truthful but he kept in mind that his brother was still present, silently listening to all of this.

"Gedran manipulated him as much as anyone...then had the nerve to gloat about it! For the moment our goals are rather similar. I trust Vergil to be Vergil."

Dante turned to look Vergil in the face while he said this. His twin brother's expression was icy but complacent. Dante took that as an agreement.

A clock radio alarm sounded out and Lady almost jumped out of her chair.

"Shit...they'll be up in an hour. Your Holly can't be involved in any of this."

Dante arose slowly in sync with Trish. Both noticing that Vergil's eyebrows had risen considerably; seating themselves close to his hairline.

"Agreed...and I think it's best to keep her out of school today. Let her stay here just to be safe."

Lady gave Dante an understanding nod before answering.

"No point in sending Darren either...not that I would ever hear the end of his bitching if she got out of going to school and he didn't."

As Lady relaxed and moved out of the living room, closely followed by Dante and Trish, the prison holding Vergil began to recede back into the floor; melting back into its original shape with a spring like ease.

Vergil took the moment to stretch some very cramped muscles and check his sword. Four hours spent in a cocoon had given him a creak in his neck as well as a serious cramp in his sword hand. Although it couldn't compare with the discomfort he'd been used to whilst playing concierge to the demon spirit. Flexing his fingers and straightening his back he took a few cautious steps after the trio, following them into the kitchen. It appeared as though they were waiting for him.

"Make one wrong move and be assured you won't be here to make another one."

Lady's words were absolute and final.

Vergil's reply to the promise fell like a drizzle of acid rain.

"Be assured if I make any move... _you_ won't be around to carry out that threat."

Dante's eyes were half lidded as he busied himself in Lady's presses rather than bear witness to this. Trish was standing beside him, being a little more proactive and trying to come up with a solution whereby the pair, presently clashing horns in the kitchen, didn't actually manage to wake up her first born.

The tension was rising again. When it seemed as though Lady would be wasting a few more bullets everybody present was silenced.

Walking into the kitchen, barefoot and clad in a T-shirt and shorts, Darren stopped in front of the fridge. Removed a bottle of water and turned to leave. He halted beside his mother to look at Dante. His ruffled hair and sleep clogged eyes a clue as to why it took a few moments to register the bizarre scene.

"Hey Dante...you aren't here...to...you know give me a lift to school, are you?"

Lady answered in Dante's stead. The half Demon was still a little unsure of his words.

"Certainly not after the last time...no, you can stay home today...we...have..."

Darren coolly interrupted his mother.

"_Another_ apocalypse...yadda...yadda...yadda...when do we not have demon related problems?"

Dante snickered; the kid certainly didn't get his sense of humor from his mother. It could have been the half Demons lengthy period as "Dante the babysitter" that started the torrent of sarcasm that seemed to spew forth every time he opened his mouth.

Darren developed a thoughtful look in his sleepy features for a moment as he remembered something.

"Oh...and Dante... you're gonna need a new jukebox!"

Dante winced, that was the third jukebox in about six months. Still, Lady had to ask.

"Demons?"

Dante, finding himself overcome with a great sense of loss, was unable to answer her. Trish hesitantly and quietly filled in the blanks.

"Actually... Holly...it's usually the first thing to go when she throws a tantrum!"

Lady had a profound understanding of Holly's fits. Had the house itself not possessed the ability to be self-repairing, she'd have been looking at very extensive bills. Dante's aversion to the old time jukeboxes would consistently prove to be a source of frustration, considering that they were particularly susceptible to EMP and electrical interference. A problem no longer common thanks to the latest in shield chip technology. The threat a few years back of a nuke in the atmosphere above America had pushed for EMP proof technologies.

"Darren, you can go back to bed...Darren?"

Darren was staring at Dante, alternating his vision between the Demon hunter and Vergil. He blinking was rather rapid; advanced confusion and surprise washing over his face in waves. He slowly drew the water bottle up to eye level and examined the contents for anything out of the ordinary.

"Ehh...mom...this water isn't drugged, is it? Because, either Dante's developed one serious case of split personality, or I'm hallucinating."

Lady was about to shoe her son back to bed rather than get him involved in any of this but Vergil never gave her the chance.

"So...the Arkham bloodline continues!"

The teenager stilled. It was now that he showed himself to be a true child of Lady's. Sarcasm and humor pushed quickly aside his voice took on strength even though a mocking tone was still present.

"We don't use the A word in the house…or outside…or within earshot."

Darren said nothing else and without further prodding from his mother he exited the kitchen quickly, silent feet bounding up the stairs. His questions unanswered by anyone present but eased by a gem of half learned knowledge buried at the back of his young mind. Lady must have mentioned Vergil before.

"He's extremely light footed... for a human that is!"

It was Lady's half smirk after Vergil had said that, that probably freaked Dante out more. The thought that Vergil had just complemented a human, was about as odd as the image of a Marionette doing ballet. But the fact that Lady had let so personal of an emotion show was the equivalent of a Demon being cast in the lead roll of Annie.

Dante's mental remark and utter flabbergast at those words were obviously expected. Just as the Demon hunter now knew that the next words to grace Vergil's lips were for him.

"It was merely an observation..."

Lady's smirk grew a little more defined. Pride at a son's ability to sneak up on a Demon, even unintentionally, was one emotion she was actually willing to show.

"So...tell me again how all this started" Lady remarked softly.

Dante turned his head to Vergil. His body language told Lady that her attention should be directed at Vergil

"I only know from where I ran into Verg...you want the very beginning, I think you need to ask him!"

Vergil rolled his eyes and turned away, a little uneasy at having to explain everything from the beginning. Not only that, but in his mind the death of Jamie Bloom was a completely irrelevant topic. _How_ she died had no bearing on the present situation.

"This is a waste of time...Gedran is the one we need to be discussing...not some dead ballerina!"

It was now Dante's eyebrows that shot up into his head. That was anger. Vergil...had just shown a brief moment of human emotion. This Jamie person was clearly more important than Dante had originally thought. To provoke any reaction other than a cold and absolutely icy response from Vergil, was unusual to say the least. It was evidence of either a very annoying pest or a chink in Vergil's armor.

"Vergil, are you avoiding the question?"

Dante's tone was soaked in amusement. An open taunt more than an actual question.

Vergil stilled. It was only now that he registered the lapse in control; an outburst caused by the mere thought of the spirit's annoying dual persona. He still wasn't sure of how much of her actual personality had leaked through into the form that assaulted him. How much was real and how much was an illusion. He only knew that his anger boiled at the thoughts of how easy he'd been tricked.

He gave in reluctantly. Rather get this over with than suffer his brothers intolerable teasing.

"Exactly what is it you want to know?"

Dante smirked at Vergil's attempt to return to his cold and neutral position. Although instead of pushing the jokes he moved on.

"Well, lets start at the beginning, and not her death...yours!"

Dante had never seen Vergil squirm. While the downward twitch of his lips was hardly something worthy to be called a squirm...to Dante it was close enough.

"My essence was released after you destroyed Mundus...being half human I was able to shift back to the human realm."

Vergil put every ounce of self-control into each word. He forced out the memory of his time of suffering; buried it deep beneath his growing hatred for Gedran.

Dante pointed to the sword hanging at Vergil's waist. The same sword he'd collected after he'd defeated Vergil for the last time on Mallet Island. No words where necessary as Vergil understood exactly what was being asked.

"Once I'd regained enough strength, it returned to me."

Dante gave one of his half-hearted chuckles.

"Figures, but I always assumed it was taken during a demon attack"

Vergil gave his brother a bitter, tightlipped smile.

"You know what they say about assumption, dear brother."

Trish could see where this was going. As odd as it felt she was going to have to play the referee in this scenario.

"Let's move on...you've cleared up a little of this story now...about this ballerina?"

Trish glanced at Lady and she gave a slight nod; like a silent request passing between them. Trish softened her chiseled features, drawing on her likeness to the late Eva to aid her in this proposal.

"You obviously don't want to talk to us...so how about showing us?"

Vergil looked with distaste at the face Trish was trying to emulate. He knew exactly what she was talking about and he also knew that while it would solve his problems about describing detail for people with all the imagination of gerbils, it would put his mind on the line. Place his secrets in a position where others could literally see his thoughts.

Vergil had managed to hide a lot of things from Mundus, even after so long in slavery. It was this confidence that ruled Vergil's quiet response.

"If I must..."


	8. Ordered Mind

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. I don't own the characters of Dante, Trish or Lady although lord knows I'd sell my very soul to own Vergil.

AN: Let's just say you don't want to know what insanity has ruled my life the last few months. Considering I lost all those chapters I'd written so long ago, I thought I'd never continue this. But low and behold, Vergil seems to have returned. I'm planning to go over the already posted chapters and do a bit of much needed polishing, but I make no promises.

* * *

**Ordered Mind**

Vergil could already feel the presence of the construct pushing against the borders of his mind. Despite his outwardly calm appearance he was regretting his decision to let his mind become a plaything; let his very sanity be placed in the hands of a mad woman and an uncertain, possibly unstable magic. This was undoubtedly a mistake and would find its way onto the list of things he'd no doubt regret. Never the less, to back out now would show weakness and one thing that Vergil would rather die than admit openly, was weakness. It was his reasoning that after his ordeal with Mundus this intrusion would be nothing but simple child's play. Yet, he'd been young then when he'd confronted Mundus, angry, determined, but most of all focused. His present emotional control had wavered to the degree that he found it almost impossible to keep a level head in front of his brother. He despised shows of weakness but the time for self-deceit was over; whether he would ever admit it or not, truthfully, he'd never been as weak as he was now. He could only hope that he was strong enough to survive this.

The very air around the four presently occupying the kitchen began to waver as the construct started the task of turning the room into a 3D theatre. Vergil felt the strain on his mind as the construct forced its way into his memories. It was up to Vergil to cordon off everything out of bounds and to bring order to the images and scenes that lay in his mind for the construct to display. In theory it was simple, however, like all things so deceitfully straightforward it quickly proved to be far harder than Vergil had anticipated. The curse of simple plans.

Whilst they watched the scene unfold around them, Vergil was forced to pour every ounce of himself into containing the constructs probing actions. Its very movement in his mind seemed far more aggressive than he deemed necessary. Like a tidal wave it swelled and crashed against his mind, washing away the thoughts he'd laid out for it and simultaneously eroding the walls protecting the rest of his consciousness.

He'd no idea how long this was going to take, nor how long before the others felt that they'd seen enough. The tendrils of power tearing through him were erratic. As though it actively, purposefully sought to break the very barriers he'd erected. Although he tried to assure himself that this could not be the case, doubts were beginning to surface as to its true purpose.

* * *

Dante, Lady and Trish stood motionless as events unfurled around them. Vergil's attention to detail was truly extraordinary and they couldn't help but feel as though time had shifted and they were actually witnessing this all in real time. They watched the Ballerina put up a hell of a fight for a Human. Desperate and clumsy and yet she'd succeeded in part. Ego and pride were a much more exploitable weakness in Demons and she'd utilized it.

The memories continued to flow and they watched on in quiet, solemn contemplation. So far the scenes had been ordered and clear. A testament to Vergil if ever there was one. They'd viewed as far as the Shaman's first meeting and had already seen the first stages of the Demons manipulations as well as Gedran's few momentary slips.

When suddenly the image faltered.

Jumping from one scene to another with a stomach churning speed the ground beneath their feet turned to darkened ash and the sky warped to reddish hues. Despite the shared confusion, Trish was the first one to question what was happening. Naturally assuming that Lady would have all the answers she rounded on the equally startled woman.

"What the hell's going on? What is this?"

Lady didn't give her any definitive answer, in truth she was equally as clueless if not far more reserved in her temperament. Her voice was calm and her answer came as they witnessed blue lightning pound the earth around their feet.

"It must be a memory…although…I don't recognize this place"

Trish and Lady both took in their surroundings with paranoid fever. For the first time in a number of minutes Dante spoke out. His voice hardly more than a whisper as though he was speaking more to himself than anyone else present.

"…this is Hell…the real deal." He intoned quietly.

Lady, the only one present who'd never stepped foot out of the Human realm, looked on in abject fascination.

"So this is Hell, huh? Doesn't look all that bad."

Dante wasn't smiling, gone was all the humour, the childishness. He was deadly serious.

"This is just the dying desert…the plains you cross on your way in. The souls that wind up here will spend what seems like eons wandering in endless thirst and hunger. No matter what direction they head in they always end up in the same place."

Lady didn't need to ask where as the images rushed by them. The ground and sky were nothing more than a blur as they were rushed across the dead sands. The next scene was something to behold. Never in Lady's wildest dreams could she have fathomed this.

Before them stood the gates of hell. But these were not ordinary gates. These things were made to strike fear into the very hearts and souls of the Humans unlucky enough to stand in their shade. Their very presence meant to insight madness and fear. The ominous, massive doors that stood before them had once been alive.

Not that the gates themselves had lived or breathed. Only that their construction materials consisted of the decaying bodies of those Demons out of favour with the current ruler. The foul stench of the rotting corpses toxified the very air they were breathing. It was barbaric…it was utterly sickening.

Lady looked strangely conflicted.

"I don't know whether to pity them... I didn't even know I was capable of feeling pity. This is monstrous…even for Demons. You said you were here before, Dante? When? How?"

There was an underlying accusation of 'yet you never told me' to Lady's words.

Dante shrugged.

"A crazy sorcerer, hot French chick, end of the world…the usual. It wasn't as big the last time I was here, though." He spared a light smirk at his engrossed blonde partner. "I'm surprised you've never been here, babe."

The blonde was still scrutinizing every inch of the behemoth gates that her eyes would allow. She was only partially listening to Dante, though her attention focused at the word 'babe'.

She licked her suddenly dry lips.

"This was a no-go place for anyone that Mundus needed in the Human realm. The general idea was that anyone who came here wasn't going to be coming back. I've never seen them before, I knew they existed but that's it. I didn't think even Mundus could come up with something as twisted..." She let a small, genuine smile slip. "Well, maybe I did. But thinking and seeing are very different. It's a lot to take in." She explained.

The shadowed barrier before them stood tall and erect. It looked as though if all of Hell were to fall, this thing would still be standing. Its strength could only be attributed to the many failures of Mundus's reign, those very same failures that he had ultimately taken out on his subjects. The thousands of Demons nailed, pinned and hanging from the grotesque monstrosity bore testimony to Hell's late ruler's temper. Standing before these great doors the three could hear the screams and moans of the souls trapped within. Lady felt the need to gag, even though the visage wasn't real and she was really standing in her kitchen. Vergil's memory of this event was beyond vivid for whatever reason.

Whatever thoughts had been surfacing in the minds of the three, were immediately shattered as a distant motion along the borders of their sight caught all three's unwavering attention. Something was moving along the surface of the gates; something slowly slithering in between the dead and dying Demons. Something was coming.

Regardless of the fact that this was simply an illusion both Trish and Lady had put space between them and took defensive stances. A dead silence had gripped the gates now. It was so quiet. Almost as if everything had ceased and the Demons had taken to holding their breath till this _creature_ passed them. Time just seemed to ground to a halt. The tension between them had become almost malleable.

The thing was still moving down the gate when it came into full view of the Demon hunters. It moved slowly and with a foul purpose. Its body more like that of a snake than any Demon they'd seen. When the wait had become too much to bear, Trish hissed the question that undoubtedly had crossed Lady's mind as well.

"What the _fuck_ is that _thing_?"

Dante was still entirely focused on the creature when he spoke thought he'd visibly relaxed having seen it clearly.

"It's Magna… it comes to the gate to feed on the flesh of the dead Demons. It's harmless."

Trish wasn't convinced,

"I don't trust that anything living down here is harmless. Or have you forgotten where we are?"

The corner of Dante's lips twitched upwards in a half smile. The first break in his out of character stoicism for quite a while.

"Don't worry, babe. This is an illusion, remember! Whether it's dangerous or not I could walk up to it right now and force feed it a dozen bullets and it wouldn't even bat a scaly eyelash"

Trish's previous alertness shattered as she mumbled a retort,

"Eventually you're gonna run into something that actually _likes_ eating your bullets…as in chewing them up and spitting them out." She rolled her eyes. "Men…all the fucking same!"

Lady kept silent. She was old enough to recognize Dante's baiting. She envied the pair in some ways. Neither Trish nor Dante had lost that youthful fire in all their years of hunting. She felt aged and haggard…and cold. She lived solely for her son and the memory of his father. Without them, she couldn't imagine living in the 'real' world filled with parent teacher meetings.

As suddenly as they'd found themselves at the gates they found themselves back in the desert. Not simply that but as they adjusted to the rapid change in scenery, both dizzy and confused, lightning struck the ground in exactly the same place as it had done so previously. Ignoring Dante's cheesy "And they say lightning never strikes twice." comment, the proverbial light bulb went off in Trish's head.

"It's looping, Dante… the memory is looping!"

Dante had one finger in his ear fishing for a clog of wax while he brushed off her panicked statement.

"Great, I heard ye' the first time!"

Trish turned to Lady, finding herself getting nowhere with Dante.

"Shut it down. Now!!"

Lady had begun to realise what Trish had already concluded. This was one of Vergil's memories and the only reason Vergil would let it loop was if something was wrong. Letting them see all this to begin with should have been clue enough. Vergil didn't share and this obviously had nothing to do with the present situation.

The world around them warped and they were once more back in Lady's kitchen. Dante and Trish both found themselves holding the countertop as the shift in scenes became too much for their empty stomachs.

* * *

Vergil didn't even know when it was that his defences broke before the awesome power of the construct. Such an unnatural peace had fallen on him as he was washed away in the last vicious wave of power. With all barriers and blocks gone it was his strongest memory that surfaced first. Like a life raft he latched onto it, clinging desperately as he was swept away.

For almost a whole moment he didn't know where he was. The memory of blinding pain had consumed his very being; set his very skin on fire as his surroundings slowly came into focus.

The briefest moment of panic struck him as he realized where he once more was. He would have laughed if his throat hadn't been starved of water for so long. The one memory he had grasped and it had been this. The irony was truly incredible.

A sharp bout of pain wracked Vergil's body and involuntarily he convulsed. The sharp movements brought with it a further twisted agony as the nails tore against the sensitive nerves in his arms and legs. The metal at his back was cold. A chill that left a painful ache in all his muscles. Although not once would such cold bring with it the welcome numbness that would alleviate his suffering. He turned his head a fraction to glimpse his surroundings. Swollen, tired eyes spied a Marionette pinned beside him in a broken, twisted state. It's limbs mangled and rotten. The clothing it had once worn was torn beyond recognition. The punishment for a failure, more than likely made on Mundus' part, was more than severe. Though would Hell be Hell if justice prevailed? This was a place of tyranny; the only rules being the ones the current Emperor decided, and those rules would suit only him. They too were as subject to change as the four winds.

Vergil dared not open his cracked lips to taste the air he already knew to be as foul as the rotting corpses nailed beside him. His breath came in hisses and was forced through teeth clenched tight against the pain. At the time he had actually allowed himself to believe that this had been his punishment. Such a delusion he'd fed himself. He knew now that Mundus' cruelty stretched much further than this, that his dark imagination held untold horrors. He had come to realize that this was where he would await the Emperor's decision. That this Hell wasn't Hell at all, compared to what was planned. This was simply his purgatory. Despite himself, he let go a raspy whimper and hoped that the three idiots who'd convinced him to do this, saw sense in the action and stopped it. Mundus had broken him before; sent him spiralling to the edges of insanity over and over. He'd ground time to a halt as he broke the half Demon countless times.

The terror that clawed at Vergil was pushed back as a more than familiar sound assaulted his frazzled senses. He could hear the hiss, the nauseating sound of teeth against flesh and bone, and the sound of diamond hard claws shattering the limbs of the Demons beneath it as it crawled forward.

"…maa…agna…"

That one word was ever so costly to Vergil. He could feel his throat protest harshly at the abuse and the blood dribble down his chin as his lips split. He tilted his head up towards the grim sound. In all the time he had spent on the gates never once had Magna turned its grisly intentions on him. It had been a source of distraction for Vergil. His mind occupied half the time wondering whether the creature had been ordered to leave him be or if it had an ulterior purpose. Vergil knew that his body would recover from such attentions and was positive that Mundus knew this as well. The Demon scavenger had desecrated the bodies of every Demon on the gates. Even the ones he could not devour he seemed to tear up anyway. A strange vengefulness etched into every action. It had to be something else.

It was as the Demon passed close by him that Vergil was suddenly aware of what he had forgotten in all his years of torture. The one moment that had both confused him and left him something to ponder in his agonising free time until torture had wiped his mind.

As the Demon passed him, it paused.

Vergil remained as still as he could. Every sense was trained on the face of the Demon. A face so filled with hatred and with pain that it shocked him even in his present state. Its mouth opened a crack and a long cool tongue flicked out striking the side of Vergil's chin. It held no force and Vergil could tell in all his experience that it wasn't meant to harm him. As he studied the Demon's body his eyes focused on the slim snake like form and the narrow face. While many Demons were without gender some chose to adopt more feminine postures. In Vergil's eyes, this would be one of those Demons.

The Demon had caught a trickle of still wet blood as it had flowed down Vergil's chin. She worked it around her mouth as though examining it before turning her attention forward and continuing on her path; her appetite sated for the day.

Vergil had forgotten all of this in the timeless torture that had followed. Magna was something more than the average Demon. If he survived all this foolishness he would make further inquiries.

As he watched the Demon disappear between the masses of bodies he felt something retract from his mind. As the tight grip loosened he found himself tumbling back to reality, gasping in relief.

Weak and disorientated Vergil opened his eyes to a view of a white ceiling. What sounded like Dante's voice rang in Vergil's ears long before that stupid grin of his came into relevant focus.

"Give him some room!!"

Vergil would have liked nothing more than to reach out a hand and choke the life out of his brother for all this. As it was he barely managed the strength for a choked out reply.

"I'm fine…" Vergil mumbled something further but not even Dante's hearing could distinguish the garbled words.

Vergil summoned the strength to roll on his side and drag his weary body onto his knees. He stayed this way for several moments as his extraordinary body recovered from the shock. The memory he'd relived came back with a haunting clarity alongside the others that had been repressed. He tried to push it out but found that no matter how hard he tried the visions remained in his minds eye just below the surface of conscious thought.

It took Vergil some time to identify Dante's outstretched hand. When he did finally understand that it was to help him to his feet he slapped it aside.

"I don't need your help…"

Despite his wobbling legs and that single bout of dizziness that threatened to topple him, he clambered to his feet, one hand placed on the counter for added support. His body hunched in a very similar position to how Dante's had been, only minutes previously.

Three deep breaths saw Vergil's strength returning. His usual air of arrogance wavered slightly as he noted the glares of both Lady and Trish who had yet to speak. He could feel their eyes boring into the back of his skull. Eventually he found that he'd had just about enough.

"Has anyone ever told you it's rude to stare?"

Vergil simpered to himself while he turned to view the pair's faces, locked in utter embarrassment. Under his smirk they started to look anywhere but at him. Trish found herself examining the teddy bear on the side of a mug while Lady had cleverly turned her back on it all. Vergil spotted her putting on the kettle only to change her mind a second later and pull a bottle of port from the high cupboard.

An ear-piercing scream cut the air and was followed by the sound of a bottle breaking as four Demon hunters scrambled out of the kitchen into the living room in a matter of moments.

The electrical charge that hummed in the air left no illusion as to the source of the scream.

"Holly? Sweetie, what's wrong?"

Trish rushed and swept the small girl up off the floor. The child just clung to her mother sobbing frantically. The occasional streak of energy lashing out had Dante, Vergil and Lady standing back. Trish waited for Holly to calm a little more before asking the same question.

"Come on…you can tell me. What's wrong?"

The little girl slowly pulled her head back out of her mothers, now tear stained polo neck jumper. Her eyes were raw from crying and her hair was still tangled from sleep. Her voice seemed to crack under the strain of holding back more tears.

"…mommy…"

It was the only word the child could process. Whatever was bubbling in her thoughts, choked on the foreign stranglehold of grief before it could spill over into more than a single word. The very life seemed to drain out of the room. The comfortable temperature had become chill. The sounds of birds chirping outside, welcoming the morning, had become the most ominous of sounds. No one who'd have seen the look on the child's face would ever have disputed the fact that something was terribly wrong. That something had happened, that was so bad it had rocked the child's playful nature and reduced her to tears. No one who knew her could imagine a sight so terrible that it would affect her like this. This was a child that had sat for hours in front of a Playstation while Demons attacked: the same child who'd barbequed her own share of the trophies littering Dante's office.

Holly was inconsolable. Not simply sobbing now, but wailing.

The previously trashed, scorched and smouldering room began to slowly repair. In a matter of moments everything was back as it once was…everything but the destroyed television, which still lay in smoking, fractured ruin.

The semi-dressed form of Lady's only son appeared in the doorway. He looked stricken, perhaps even tearful if the glistening in the corner of his eyes was to be believed. He didn't seem shocked to see Holly in the state she was.

"You guys better come see this." Darren rasped.

Gedran's promise of suffering to come seemed under exaggerated. It _truly_ felt like the beginning of the end.


	9. Silence

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Devil May Cry. I do not own Vergil, Dante, Trish, or Lady. The OCs are mine though.

**AN:** My life is truly ridiculous sometimes.

* * *

**Silence**

The walls crawled like the skin of some sort of living, breathing monster. Their once safe and sheltering borders had been twisted and perverted to a chilling purpose. Locker doors hung open; their contents abandoned. The steady drip of a nearby water fountain was all that could be heard. There was a stench in the air; putrid, burnt and suffocating. It was so thick they could taste it on their tongues. Sulphur and ash and the nauseating reek of blood. No one dared breathe in more than the shallow disgusted gasps that their bodies required.

Dispatch had taken the call around ten o'clock that morning from a teacher's cell phone. The voice of the female teacher had been panicked and her sentences garbled. What immediately had paled the authorities had been the fact that she'd had to shout above a background of screams. The only discernable words "help us" had been uttered so many times the voice operator had been sure the woman on the other end of the line had forgotten their meaning long before her own pained scream signalled the end of the call. The call itself had been brief and the police response more than swift but when they'd arrived they knew that whatever had happened was long over.

Everything was so still.

From the outside, the building resembled some horror movie prop. Despite the midday sun it was cast in an unexplainable shadow. The birds were silent; the air was frighteningly dead. The three squadrons of officers that had arrived stood at the front entrance gripped by some unnatural fear; paused in their hurried steps by the foreboding of whatever evil they might find lurking within. Every wall and door of the school now only served to conceal the shadowed menace that, instinctively, they knew hid in wait for them, beckoning them.

It could be said that every man and woman that had dared to do their duty and enter the damned building had shown something more than courage. They'd reached down within themselves and found the strength to proceed against all their screaming senses; those previously dormant perceptive abilities that had awoken to warn them of this ancient and primal, predator of man. This was an all-consuming darkness that once more walked among Human kind.

Had the police officers- the ones brave enough to enter- fathomed in the darkest recesses of their minds the grotesque barbarism that awaited them in every classroom, stained the walls and coated the floors, they would have stayed with the cars like their wiser comrades.

The officers had barely stepped more than a handful of feet across the threshold of the school when guns were drawn. Drawing guns wasn't procedure, in fact, in a school it would be advised to keep them holstered till a visible threat could be ascertained. But at this point no one complained about the breach of procedure. No one could find the voice to speak.

The smell assaulted their senses and brought bile to the throats of more than one person. The uniformed officer holding the rear, visibly and audibly gagged.

The two officers taking point spotted the first splashes of blood across the walls. The vital fluid was dripping down the doors of several lockers in its sickeningly wet present state. Terror washed across their faces. In their hearts and souls they knew that this wasn't even the beginning of the horrors that would greet them.

A sickening crunch sounded in the dense silence and the officer taking point froze; his face locked into a grimace.

He looked down to see what it was that he'd stepped on.

The grisly sight of an almost unrecognisably shredded thumb winked back at him.

What had been left of Rushview Elementary and High school was a statement to the world; all the dark things lurking beneath the thin veil of civilisation, never left, and they were very, terribly real.

* * *

The small girl seemed to have shrunk in on herself. Her already diminutive size seemed all the frailer and paler now that her tears had dried and her wracked sobs had died down to nothing more than muffled whimpers of grief in her mother's sweater.

Trish held her close as Darren's modest bedroom cackled with an energy she was all too familiar with. Slithering in the spaces between the four Demon hunters that were gathered around the boy's television, there was a hatred, rage and all-consuming revulsion at what they'd just witnessed. Even the admittedly uncaring Vergil couldn't _quite_ manage to hide his tight features.

"They're all gone…all my friends, all of Holly's." A very pale Darren managed to choke out. A harsh glare from Trish silenced him. Already the mention of everything she'd lost had sent the small child, cradled in her mother's arms, sprawling back into tears. Trish's eyes softened at the look on his face. There was no way the woman could hold any anger towards the boy. He'd lost just as much as her daughter had.

No one spoke for such a long time. It almost seemed like Dante in his shock had forgotten that his mouth was capable of emitting more than the harsh growl bubbling up from his chest. Lady was silent but the rippling of the walls and the subtle vibration of the floor beneath their feet spoke loudly of her inner turmoil. Vergil could only stare at the small screen, his favoured sword hand twitching almost imperceptibly. A frown etched deeply into his chiselled features.

It was Lady who managed to speak first.

"Out of all the schools in the city…" She choked. "..they pick the school with our kids?" The accusation hung heavy in the air. As barbaric and monstrous an act as it was, the massacre had had a secondary purpose.

Gedran had targeted and struck out against what he perceived to be the Demon Hunters' most vulnerable points. His first act had been to go after their children.

"How stable _is_ this construct? If you left them here would it protect them?" Vergil calmly questioned.

He'd been expecting Lady to answer him but she remained tight-lipped. Utterly stony. Trish was the one of all people to answer him.

"It's very stable. But just who is it you think you're dealing with? If Gedran wants a way in, he'll find it. He'll send wave after wave against that barrier and I for one am not gonna leave her here on the chance that this place _might_ protect her. He knows we're here. It's only a matter of time, now." The blond woman hissed almost venomously. Her death grip on her daughter seemed all the more desperate.

"So, we leave. The question is where do we go?" Dante muttered.

"We split up. Vergil and Darren with me, you with Holly and Trish." Lady spoke, her voice was cold and calculating.

"If you think I'm going anywhere with _you_, you're as delusional as you are mistaken." Vergil spat.

Lady levelled him with the sweetest smile she could force on her face at such short notice.

"There's strength in numbers, _Vergil_, and unless you'd like to go with your brother, I'm afraid you're stuck with me and mine." She reasoned. "Darren, go and pack some clothes, then go into my room, you'll find a big black duffle bag in the closet. When you're done put them at the bottom of the stairs." The teenager didn't question his mother or open his mouth to protest. He quickly and quietly slipped out into the hall.

It was plain to see the cogs moving in Vergil's mind as he contemplated both her argument and his present options. Options which, now that he thought about it, seemed very few.

"Agreed." The word seemed to almost physically pain him. While he did stand a better chance of survival with his brother the thought of spending more time with him than was absolutely necessary seemed worse than death. Besides, there were a lot of unanswered questions regarding the Human and her silent-footed offspring.

Dante stepped forward.

"Hold up. We stay together. If things get bad we'll split like you said but right now we're stronger as a group." That seemed to deepen the frown on Vergil's face, but he didn't voice his contempt. "Now, I believe we still need somewhere to go." He reiterated.

Trish stood slowly and passed the now sleeping form huddled in her arms to Dante.

"I know someone who might be able to help us." She cautiously, almost reluctantly offered.

* * *

It was getting dark by the time the two cars arrived in the somewhat disreputable part of the city. Even in a city losing a lengthy battle to the forces of darkness this was considered a very shady area. Lady exited her car followed by Darren and a somewhat cramped looking Vergil. All three were staring intently at the sky; a firmament that was now darkening to night at a shocking twenty minutes past noon and was already littered with streaks of crimson.

"Well that doesn't bode well." A stunned Darren whispered; the comment ignored by both his mother and Vergil. The statuesque pair stood awkwardly on the sidewalk waiting for Dante to arrive. It had been decided that they take separate routes to the same location. Just to err on the side of caution. Trust Dante to get stuck in traffic.

Vergil had ridden in the front seat next to a stiff Lady in absolute silence. A half an hour of tension so smothering that at one point the teenager in the back seat had rolled down the rear window and stuck his head out like some sort of travelsick pet.

But escalating tension could only go so far before it broke. And usually it broke in one of two ways: in laughter, or in gunshots.

As the third street-side prostitute in roughly three minutes propositioned a somewhat red-eared Vergil, Lady burst out laughing.

His facial features didn't betray his embarrassment in the slightest as he turned them all down but as she watched in the same sort of morbid fascination that someone might watch a train wreck, she spotted his ears turn a very noticeable shade of pink. Dante's hair had always concealed that particular feature. And to think Lady had wondered why the menace had kept the same hair cut for the better part of a decade.

Absolutely unable to help herself she stepped closer to Vergil and as Dante's mustang pulled up behind her own car she whispered in his ear.

"Red really doesn't suit you."

Had he been in Devil form the glare Vergil shot at the back of her head would have produced fire, or at the very least a lightning bolt would have struck her down as she retreated, victorious.

"You took your sweet time, Dante." Lady chided the hunter as he climbed out of the passengers' seat cradling a still sleeping Holly in his arms.

"Hey, talk to the babe. She did all the driving." Dante didn't sound too happy about that. Considering they left Lady's house with Dante in the drivers seat it was rather strange to find him a passenger in his own car. How Trish had wrestled the steering wheel out of his hands, Lady couldn't even fathom to guess.

"We had to pick something up on the way." The blond huntress explained as she climbed out of the driver's side and retrieved a long, cylindrical, brown paper parcel from the back seat.

"What is that?" Vergil questioned. Trish was handling it gently, as if it would break. It was either very fragile or very dangerous.

Trish didn't reply but Vergil noticed his twin eyeing the package with the same wary and questioning look . It appeared that not even Dante was privy to the contents.

Trish casually strolled passed the drunks and the drug addicts and took a turn down a scandalously dark alley. The type of alley that seemed specifically designed for shady dealings.

Trish stepped over a puddle that was much too yellow to be mere water and gave a cheap, rusting door a harsh kick. A brisk, feminine voice roared back "Who is it? I'm busy" and to everyone's surprise Trish answered the woman in a voice that wasn't hers. A deep, masculine boom came out in place of her usual sultry tones.

"It's me. I got the package." She replied with the stolen voice.

Whoever Trish was impersonating, the person on the other side started sliding a ridiculous number of latches off the door in response. The woman began ranting as soon as the door unlocked.

"You're bloody late. What part of 'first thing' don't…" The woman words died on her lips as the door revealed Trish nonchalantly standing there.

The startled twenty-something with short red hair gaped; her eyes bugging like something straight out of a Saturday cartoon.

"YOU!" She screamed.

Trish didn't seem to be put off in the least by the greeting. Not even when the woman scrambled to close the door in a borderline hysterical screech. The blonde simply placed her foot in the arch to keep it open and with a firm strike of her hand she took the barrier clean off its hinges. Leaping back the red-head barely managed to avoid getting crushed as pounds of rusted metal tumbled to the floor. The noise was deafening and the child in Dante's arms woke up with a shriek and a blast of cackling electrical energy. Most of which earthed in Dante and sent him to his knees with a pain filled groan.

Trish turned; it was just an instinctual reaction to the cries of her only little girl but no sooner had her line of sight left the woman, frozen in the doorway, that a blur of short red hair struck.

Dante and Vergil dodged to the side as Trish was sent barrelling past them and through the adjacent alley wall courtesy of a brutal kick to the midsection. The red head turned on her heel and fled further into the building. Vergil raced into the darkness after her, closely followed by a disturbingly chipper Lady.

Following the brief glimpses of red hair in the dim lighting, Vergil ascertained the pursuit to be easier when you had Demon blood in your veins and enhanced sight because of it. He made note of this as Lady noisily stumbled for the tenth time somewhere behind him cursing up a storm in the aftermath. The floor was uneven and in some places the dirty wooden boards were missing entirely. If you couldn't see them, navigating the maze-like interior of the building was like walking through a field of bear traps whilst blindfolded. Having a limited Human perception, Lady was finding the chase difficult.

Vergil hastily turned a corner on the ground floor and raced through a doorway. He could no longer see her but he could hear the sound of another door being unbarred. A beam of streetlight suddenly illuminated the hallway from one of the rooms on his left. Sprinting, he made it to the room door in time to see an unruly mop of flame red hair disappear onto the street.

As Vergil was mentally preparing himself for a very public chase a startled yelp and a scuffle on the sidewalk reached his finely trained ears.

Stepping outside he found the red head sprawled out on her stomach groaning and a dark haired teenage nuisance still holding onto her ankles as though his life depended on it.

Vergil laughed out loud. It was a very rare occasion that he could claim any kind of true amusement but this was undoubtedly one of them. Before he could even think of stopping himself he started bellowing.

"What are you so happy a…" Lady started to say as she came up behind him. When she spotted just who it was that was surgically attached to the ankles of their quarry, her eyes narrowed dangerously. The two pinpricks of colour seemed to glow ominously.

"UP!!" She roared.

Darren scrambled to his feet and flinched under his mothers glare. She rushed towards him at the speed of a viper. Although about three inches shorter than her son, Lady towered over the boy. A thin, bony finger was pointed inches from his nose. At this stage, Trish had well recovered herself and her daughter, and Dante was standing watching with keen interest. Lady composed herself under the outside scrutiny.

"We'll discuss this later. Mark my words." She intoned ominously.

As she turned away, Darren let out the breath he'd been holding. Vergil forced a straight face but as he passed the frozen boy to inspect the still motionless form of the semi-concussed individual they'd been chasing, he gave a quick pat on the boy's shoulders. If anything he was a source of much needed entertainment and perhaps if Vergil could fall into the child's good graces, a source of information.

"This was really unnecessary, Dee. I'm absolutely filthy, now." Trish was brushing a thick layer of grime and dust off her otherwise unharmed and unblemished shoulders.

The woman she was speaking to could only mumble.

"That's it…escape from the blasted Demons only to get nailed by the footballer." She rolled over onto her back and gave Trish a glare worthy of a photograph and a frame. "Shit!"

Trish gave her a lob-sided smile in reply before offering her a hand up. The appendage was rudely slapped aside and the downed woman climbed to her feet without assistance. Her run through the building and subsequent fall had left her jeans dirty and there was a rip and bloodstain on the left leg but with no visible wound.

Having now noticed the rather odd group all staring blankly at her, the woman grit her teeth.

"My day isn't going to get any better, is it?" She asked Trish in all sincerity.

Trish's smile became forced.

"Yeah, thought so."


	10. History Lessons

**History Lessons**

Completely unblemished skin beneath the bloodied hole in her jeans wasn't the only indicator to the group that whoever this individual was, 'Human' wasn't going to be added to their Curriculum Vitae any time soon.

For starters, she kicked Trish through a building; not exactly within the range of a mere mortal's abilities. No matter how good they were. And let's face it, she was taken down by a hundred and twenty pounds of scrawny teenager, she wasn't good. Not for a Demon, not even for a Human.

The redhead walked around the room carefully. Her small footfalls thudded softly amidst the dust. She eyed them in a manner that set Vergil's nerves on fire.

"I think I know why you're here and I'm going to tell you now…." The redhead spoke hastily, her brow crinkling under the single, pathetic bulb of the dimly lit office. "….you're fucked, Trish. Absolutely and totally. The shit that's happening is far too big for you to stop. There are some seriously large cogs in motion."

Trish stepped up to the woman and caught her by the arm.

"Adeen…" Trish began.

A look of rage flashed across the redhead's face but was covered up so fast by a cold hard glare that it redefined Vergil's opinion of himself as 'frosty'. The woman ripped her arm from Trish's grasp.

"How _dare_ you!" The woman began; her voice and eyes suddenly aflame. "The _audacity_!" She laughed, expression cooling instantly. "It's absolutely amazing how quickly you've forgotten what your bastard master did to us." She remarked bitterly.

Trish twitched oddly. Dante noticed and wisely stepped between them.

"Well, she doesn't have a master now." He reaffirmed hoping to smooth over the entire subject.

The Demon stepped to meet him toe to toe and boldly laughed in his face.

"Is that so? And you would be?" She daringly questioned. "Creatures like her were made to serve." She turned to Trish with a look of disgust. "…in one way or another."

Vergil could feel the anger ripple off his brother in waves. It made Yamato hum at his waist and he couldn't help but feel his own Demonic side writhe in response to its twin's rising rage.

"Maybe you don't know who I am, but you wouldn't be saying that if you did." Dante coldly intoned; every syllable a warning. Before she could respond he violently shoved the Demon out of his personal space.

The woman collided hard with the corner of what was passing as her office desk.

"Oh, I know who you are." She confidently whispered. A single finger rose and pointed directly at Vergil's chest. "Prick!" She announced blandly. Vergil didn't take offense. He'd spent most of his youth working hard to earn that precise reputation. He cocked a watery half-smile and shrugged his nonchalance.

The same finger was wildly swung in Dante's direction. "Imbecile". The red clad Hunter kept his expression as close to neutral as he could but his eyes betrayed his displeasure. Lady, who'd hung at the door with Darren and Holly, was next. "Insane, homicidal witch." The Demon deadpanned.

Finally her finger came to rest on Trish. The vacant, resigned look on the redhead's face was reflected in the glistening look of new horror on the blonde's.

"_Murderer!_" The woman hissed, her voice almost cracking on the word.

Trish didn't respond and Dante didn't jump in to defend her. Whatever it was that had the Demon's panties in a twist, considering Trish's previous occupation, it more than likely wasn't entirely based in fiction. Lady frowned but didn't say anything, instead she ushered her two wards out of the doorway and out of hearing range.

In the growing silence the woman continued calmly.

"Vergil and Dante, sons of the Legendary Dark Knight, Mary Arkham, daughter of a very disturbed and delusional man, and Mundus' Human look-a-like murdering _bitch_." She let out a harsh snort. "You have no _idea_ how much I know about you. Information is the difference of survival in the Demon realm."

Vergil got the very distinct impression that, powerful or not, this creature was dangerous. Knowledge was the most treacherous of weapons.

Dante frowned.

"You're a Demon?" He questioned.

Vergil and Trish cast him scathing looks. He couldn't be serious could he?

The woman laughed. Absolutely without any humour.

"What do you think?" She spat the words at Dante as though they were poisonous.

The words washed over Vergil. The scathing tone sent electrical spasms up his spine and his body jerked stiffly; eyelids fluttering uncontrollably as a wave of familiarity washed over him. His fragile mind suddenly found access to a whole host of memories he'd locked away. With his mental barriers in tatters the images flooded him. He staggered; eyes rolling into the back of his skull as he was taken decades into his own past.

"_This them?" A familiar and cold voice echoed in the still, crisp air._

"_What do you think?" Its response was biting and sarcastic._

"_Don't toy with me, hound, or I'll put you down like the animal that you are. Now, are these or aren't these the half-breeds we've been looking for?" The voice asked._

_There was a harsh breath drawn. Its release was like the last gasp of death._

"_Yeah…that's them." It intoned with something almost akin to regret._

When Vergil returned to consciousness he found himself clutching the wall for support. He wasn't crumpled on the floor in a heap like the last time but in the end it really made no difference. His limbs felt weak and his stomach was tied in knots.

He would have asked the question as to what happened but he already knew the answer.

"Vergil?" Trust Dante to have been watching him. Though, he noticed his twin was staring at him without any kind of noticeable humour. Vergil might have thought Dante was worried from the sound of his voice.

"What?" The blue Devil snapped.

Dante narrowed his eyes; concern evaporating like mist.

"You just fainted." He stated trying to conceal his straining grin. This of course drew both the attention of Trish and the Demon. Both seemed confused and in Trish's case, a little startled.

"Thank you for pointing that out to me, brother." The blue clad Devil straightened himself on his feet as gracefully as he could. "I fear I would have been totally clueless without you here to state the very _glaringly_ obvious." Vergil sarcastically remarked.

"Hey, listen, you're the one fainting, not me!" Dante laughed.

Inwardly shaken and reaching the end of a very ragged tether, Vergil's hand went to Yamato warningly. Trish coughed to draw attention to herself and took a firm stance beside her partner.

Lines were being metaphorically drawn in the sand.

"SHUT UP!" The red haired Demon's voice pierced the tension. "All of you just _stop_." She collapsed at the foot of the desk. "Just stop. I'll help…just…I'll help." She clutched her head. Confusion once more washed over her rapidly paling features as the hands at her ears came back stained with red.

The group watched in horror as rivulets of blood slowly began trickling from her nose and eyes; tracing a crimson line down her neck and chest and soaking her t-shirt. She blinked stupidly for a few seconds before her back arched painfully. The spine seemed to distort and bend in the most unnatural kind of ways. She opened her mouth in a silent scream that ended before she started gasping. A violent tremor started at the tips of her toes and began winding its way up her body.

"What the hell is wrong with it?" Vergil asked; deeply disturbed wasn't even close to how he was feeling. Horrified was more accurate. He put his hands to his ears as a nails-on-chalkboard wail finally started tearing its way out of her now blood-filled mouth.

Trish's eyes darted to the brown paper package that she'd left on floor beside the Demon's office table. The brown paper was dissolving to reveal an engraved cylindrical casing underneath. An unearthly yellow glow lined the seals of the case and as each second passed it grew stronger and brighter.

Trish rushed to the desk and plucked the thing up so fast it was almost as if it burned her. She pushed past Dante and Vergil and with a forced calm for the sake of the younger members of the party she softly, yet quickly stepped around a worried Lady and vanished into the darker recesses of the corridors. No sooner was she out of sight with the package when the screaming stopped and the Demon grew still.

Dante stepped up beside her limp, pale form and prodded her roughly with his foot.

"Huh." He sighed. "So, what d'ya think that was all about?"

Vergil took very cautious steps as he approached the still form. Squatting down he rolled the body over. He put a finger under her nose. She was still breathing. Albeit shallowly, but point in fact she was still alive.

Whatever was in that case of Trish's, this particular Demon had had a very unusual reaction to it. He'd never seen anything quite like it. A wave of frustration washed over Vergil. He'd always tried to keep up with current information and the goings on in the underbelly of civilization but for some reason all he had at the moment were questions. A never-ending line of things he didn't understand, didn't know, couldn't figure out and an overworked, fractured mind to boot. It made him feel, dare he say it, _vulnerable_.

What the hell was this thing? More importantly, why was Trish convinced it could help them?

"Don't touch her." Trish's warning was biting. What was that ridiculous Human phrase? 'Speak of the Devil and he shall appear'?

Strolling back into the room she was intercepted by Dante.

"Enough is enough. What the hell is going on here?" His tone of voice broached no argument.

Trish dropped her sight to the floor.

"She can shield us. Hide us. It's not a long term solution but it'll give us an edge." She admitted cautiously. Obviously there was more to it than that. There was a history here. Something important.

"And the box?" Vergil questioned.

Trish winced.

"Insurance." She rubbed her mouth worriedly when she caught sight of the prone figure on the ground. "Though I thought the casing would contain it. Obviously not." In a rather unusual gesture Trish took some tissues from a box on the desk, bent down and began to wipe the blood off the Demon's face.

It was an almost strangely motherly act. Vergil wondered exactly how much having a child had changed Trish. If her slip up earlier on was anything to go by, he wasn't entirely sure it was for the best, either. She was soft. Distracted. Not the fierce warrior her creator had made her to be. She wasn't anything like he remembered.

When the memories surfaced this time Vergil's conscious mind was prepared. He felt himself sway on his feet but a vice-like control seized the images before they overwhelmed him a second time.

"_You lied to me, hound." There was a sharp resounding clap and a grunt as a cloaked body fell in the snow. The voice radiated a sharp mix of anger and disappointment. From the bottom of his blindfold he could make out the face of the woman heading the group of Demons. A face so like that of his mother but so obviously not. The figure she'd hit stirred at her feet and she gave it a violent kick. "What are you all staring at? Burn every house down and kill everything that moves till you find the other two. Our master will not suffer failure."_

_She turned and her hateful eyes met his. So unfeeling. Uncaring. So incredibly powerful._

No. This Trish was a very different creature.

"Vergil?"

The blue devil came to attention.

"Yes?" He coyly replied. He was hoping that Dante merely assumed he was ignoring him.

In the years past it would have been an easy ploy to fool the Devil hunter but everything had changed in Vergil's absence. Dante made a point of appearing casual as he stepped up beside his brother.

"What's wrong? And don't give me any crap about asking, either." He whispered harshly. It obviously irked him to have to ask that type of a question of a brother he'd fought to the death a half a dozen times. There had always been a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy between them. That Dante would abandon his much loved impartiality to ask Vergil how he was like a slap in the face for the blue clad devil.

"It's nothing you need concern yourself about." Vergil found himself replying in anger. He turned away from his brother and took a calming breath wishing that it was true.

Behind Vergil, Dante's expression changed from mildly irritated to openly annoyed. Without another word to Vergil, he reached over, opened the door in front of his brother and forcefully shoved Vergil head first in. Vergil turned, all but prepared to kick down the door and pummel his brother senseless only to find Dante right behind him closing the door.

Dante turned and wiped a tired hand across his face.

"I'm not going to ask you a second time, Vergil. For fuck's sake you _fainted_. Complete with damsel-like swoon and everything. That is not _nothing._I know you don't think I'm the sharpest pencil in the Sparda case, in all honesty I'm probably not, but _we_ don't _faint_._" _He gestured a thumb to his own chest before levelling a finger at Vergil accusingly. "Something's been up with you and I think it's older than this whole mess." The Hunter's eyes narrowed in anger. "Just what the hell did Mundus do to you?" He hissed.

At the mention of his enslavement, the devil in Vergil began tearing wildly. Fighting desperately to be free. A million images and ghostly pains lanced through his mind. A million emotions surging behind them. He remembered the fear and the hopelessness that had consumed him. The insanity. Without thinking Vergil's right hand snapped out and found its way around his brother's throat. There was a sudden need to fight something. To prove he wasn't crumbling. A split moment later and Dante's hand was wrapped around Vergil's neck in response.

In the back of his mind, Vergil knew that this wasn't a match to the death; this was a competition. They held each other there. Frozen in place. A comparison of both strength and wills.

Vergil felt himself growling. An altogether distant, haunting sound. He squeezed Dante's throat and felt the hand at his throat return the favour. They should have been equals. Equal parts of the same Demon. Equal parts Human. And yet, Vergil could tell that while he was pouring all of his strength into this, Dante was holding back. Holding back and still matching him. It caused a bubble of frustration to well up within him. The devil lapped it up like warm milk and Vergil's growl doubled in volume.

Energy started rippling off the pair in waves. Blue clashed violently with red in a storm of colours.

"What the _hell_ are you two _doing_?"

The sheer quantity of energy that raced up their legs and singed their very cores like lightening would have been more than enough to power half the state for a month.

Vergil and Dante collapsed to the ground twitching.

Trish stood in the doorway with an unreadable expression on her face. She didn't even bother turning around to close the door; instead, kicking it closed with her foot and cracking the frame rather badly. She crossed her arms like a mother about to give a scolding.

"This is not the time for fighting. And Devil Trigger? _Devil__Trigger? _Hound or not the instant your Devil forms emerge every damn thing in the city is gonna make a beeline for us." She rasped. Desperation and anguish laced her words.

"So it's a Hell Hound." Vergil stated after only the briefest coughs to clear his lungs and get them moving again. It was harder than normal for him appear superior while his skin was still visibly smoking.

"That's _not_ a Hell Hound." Dante was struggling to his feet. His movements slower than usual and there was confusion in his eyes as to when exactly Trish had become that strong. "I've seen the Hell Hounds. They're…" His legs suddenly ceased to function and he collapsed. Seated once more he looked at Trish quizzically. "Hey, you been holding out on me babe? That packed one hell of a punch." He admitted a little stupidly. He rested his hands on his knees and sat waiting for the dizziness and weakness to pass.

Trish crossed her arms defiantly. Her eyes were almost pleading with Dante to do something or say something smart. The pair wisely kept their mouths closed.

When the blond opened her mouth to speak again the sharpness had vanished from her tone.

"In the last reign of Mundus twelve of his strongest enemies escaped to the Human world in the hopes of luring him out and destroying him. They masked themselves in Human bodies, set a trap for him and then scattered." There was a lot of complicated Demon history that neither Vergil or Dante would have been privy to. No books about it were written. No records kept. Some things you knew either because you were actually there or someone who was thought you should know. If this was relevant, then it was important. Enough for Vergil to consider silence above questions for the moment. From the small nod his twin gave Trish he figured Dante agreed.

Trish swallowed before continuing.

"Mundus unleashed the Hell Hounds to track them but they couldn't. Pure Demons, especially the lesser kind, once they get the scent of Human they lose the ability to distinguish the smell of other Demons. The Human scent overpowers everything. Although they were Demons just _wrapped_ in skin, all the Hounds could smell was Human flesh. And it all smelled the same to them. They lost track of Mundus' enemies and were fought off by the Humans." She slipped down onto her haunches like a cat till she was eye-level with them.

Her voice got quiet then.

"He abandoned them then. Left them to live on Earth for so long and sate their hunger on the Human populous to such an extent that the Hell Hounds he'd released on Earth began to change. They consumed so much Human flesh that they started to take the form of Humans themselves. They'd become tainted. A fate worse than death for a Demon."

Vergil inclined his head knowingly. As much as Demon's thrived on Human suffering they feared its Humanity. It was thought of as more a disease than anything else. An affliction that left you weak. And in the Demon realm if you were weak you were culled.

"Why would he do that?" Dante asked softly. Confusion crinkling his brow.

Trish leaned back against the closed door.

"He knew what would happen if he did leave them and he couldn't step foot into this world while his enemies were still alive. When Mundus came back he promised the new Hounds restoration if they could track down those enemies still at large. Because of the time they'd spent here they didn't have the same difficulties that the original breed did."

Vergil could almost admire that strategy. Almost.

"I don't know what they were honestly expecting but when the task was done he left. Even though they'd served him, the very sight of his new Hounds _disgusted_ him. He named them all abominations and left them to whatever fate here on Earth. Some continued to feed on Human flesh, others let themselves perish. Abandoned and betrayed the ones that lived continued to change. There was a lot of infighting at the start. They'd developed a lot of Human characteristics and they were afraid. Eventually most chose to settle in France and serve the orders there. The rest just bled into the darkness. She's one of the last." Trish intoned.

Dante and Vergil exchanged glances. Some of this was new information to them…and some of it wasn't.

"She eats Humans?" Dante's face was a twisted mask of disappointment and confusion. Their job was to protect people. Kill Demons. It felt almost like a betrayal.

"They haven't fed on Human's for hundreds of years. After so much dilution they're probably more Human than we are. And…" Her expression broke and she found herself straining to finish.

Dante crept forward on his knees and hugged her without a word of explanation. The events had obviously taken their toll on her.

Vergil almost gagged but turned his thoughts to more productive things.

"And the case?" The blue Devil asked, seeking a distraction.

Trish rubbed at invisible tears and calmed herself.

"It's a summons. It calls out the Hound. But considering that now they're mostly Human it literally tears them apart. These Hounds can't live without the Human aspect. Neither is whole. Separation is terminal…and excruciating." She explained.

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

"Why would such a thing exist?" He growled. It wasn't something a Demon would design.

Trish had regained her composure at this point and Dante was steadying himself on his feet. Vergil took that as his cue to stand. He wobbled a little but as of late a little wavering wasn't anything new.

"There were a few side-effects in the later years of the Hounds. It happened very rarely, but occasionally through some bizarre stroke of luck someone survived an attack."

Vergil's face went slack.

"Oh you can't be serious." He croaked.

Dante looked from his brother to Trish, whatever it was they were talking about he hadn't the faintest idea.

At his dumb, excluded expression Vergil elaborated.

"Lycanthropy, dear brother. The founders of the common werewolf legends. And that device cures a Human in its early stages by drawing out the Demon essence. " He turned to Trish. "I take it she was one of the originals?" He questioned.

"Only the Hounds can shield themselves." She countered softly.

Dante's brain chose that particular time to reboot after the massive electric shock from the few minutes previous.

"That's why he needed them to do it, isn't it? Those Demons he was after would have sensed any other lackey a world away, wouldn't they." He asked and Trish smiled.

Vergil spotted a hole in her story. He cocked his head quizzically, lowering his voice. "If she is all you claim she is, why did she not sense us? How could you have fooled her? She should have been able to tell our numbers and lineage, if I'm not mistaken, from all the way across town." He scathingly remarked.

Trish's gaze became distant.

"Various orders used the Hounds talents to track down Demons. That eventually came to include the Hounds that chose to remain neutral. She keeps the Demon side suppressed. It's the only way to avoid detection."

Dante rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"This whole thing is giving me a headache." He frowned. The red Devil rubbed his hands together. "Right, I think that's enough of the 'Dead Demon' crash course for now."

When the three of them exited the room they were surprised to find Lady and the younger members of their squad all waiting on them. Lady was supervising while Darren mopped the blood off the Hounds face and arms with a cloth dampened with bottled water. The rag was soaked through with red already and was now putting more blood back on her skin than it was taking off. He seemed to notice even if his mother didn't and was hesitant. Torn between the desire to do it properly and the realization that she wasn't going to clean up any better than that, he gave up in a spectacular toss of the bloodied rag. It landed squarely the bin across the room and earned him four curious glares.

Uncomfortable under the scrutiny he left the rapidly crowding room to stand in the hall. Holly rushed over towards Trish but at the last second changed her mind and latched firmly onto her fathers legs.

Dante messed up her hair and laughed. He laughed even harder at the look of disappointment on his partner's face.

"Oh come on. You don't even like it when she runs at you like that." She glared at him. "Hey, at least she didn't mistake Vergil for me. Chill out." Trish didn't even want to consider what would happen if Vergil found himself facing fifty pounds of little girl rushing him. Holly looked confused.

"Why would I do that?" Her little pale brow crinkled in the cutest way possible and if they weren't mistaken, a little insulted.. "You're my only daddy." She reasoned with a smile and a logic only children possessed. Vergil examined the child carefully. A girl born in the Sparda bloodline was extraordinarily unusual. He would have been almost tempted to assume Dante wasn't the father if the girl didn't look so much like him. There was absolutely no mistaking that jaw and those eyes. Vergil inwardly scoffed. He reckoned the child should be grateful that she hadn't been born with white hair. A whole heap of fun his childhood had NOT been.

Dante sank to put himself at a better level with the girl.

"See, that's your Uncle Verge." 'Uncle Verge' bit back a growl at that. Just barely but his eyes still narrowed. "And we both look the same. So it's easy to get confused. Lot's of people get confused. Even _my_ mom used to get confused sometimes." Dante smiled but inside, Vergil was squirming. The blue clad Devil actually remembered that and he found it unsettling to think of himself that small and…that _happy_.

"No." The little girl's assertion was straight to the point.

"No what?" Dante asked.

"He doesn't look like you." She assured him.

"She's right." All four heads snapped to the Demon on the floor; head resting against the back of her office desk. "Totally different." She hissed with a humourless wheezing chuckle.

Her face was pale and her entire body clung to the dirty wood as though her limbs were made of lead weights. One of her eyes caught the lights and flared orange for a brief second.

"Would one of you mind helping me up, I don't think I've ever cleaned this place before and I'm beginning to see the flaws in that from down here."

Lady's thin bony fingers reached down and mercilessly latched onto the Hound's elbow. For a small and slender woman, Lady hefted the Demon up without any apparent difficulty.

"Holly. Go wait with Darren in the hall. We'll be out in a minute." Trish muttered softly.

The little girl let go of her father and skipped off, seeming oblivious to the tension in the room though much to Vergil's surprise she did spare the redhead a curious sideways glance. As though she knew more about all this than she let on.

The Demon sat warily on the corner of the desk and ran her fingers over the drying streaks of blood on her arms and hands.

"Only the end of the world would bring you here. What Devil is it this time?" She spoke quietly.

"I thought you knew what was going on?" Vergil asked. He had been under the impression that the Hound knew what was happening.

"Hey, you don't need a seismograph to detect an earthquake when you can feel the ground shake under your feet. There's Demon's popping up all over the world. Existence itself is being torn asunder. All I'm asking for is a name." She grit out.

Trish stepped forward.

"Gedran." She spoke with the understanding that the Hound might not know who that was.

The Demon levelled her with a disbelieving glare. She looked like she was waiting for the punch line. When none came she shook her head.

"Then we really _are_ fucked, Trish. There was a pretty good reason why he was _numero__uno_ on Mundus' shit list. And an even greater reason why he was one of the two conspirators we never actually found." She ran a hand through her hair, brushing out the dust. "Out of all the Demon's to set his sights on this world he's probably the worst one. Mundus would have just exterminated us. Gedran happens to like playing with his food." She laughed hollowly at the sombre look on Trish's face.

"Will you help us? Please!" The blonde's tone was pleading.

The Hounds eyes narrowed.

"I'll help you, Trish. But only because I happen to like this world the way it is. And there will be conditions."

Needless to say there were a large number of suspicious looks. Lady in particular was visibly finding it difficult not to scowl. Her neutral expression faltered in time with the flash of the Demons eyes. Trish was the only one that seemed trusting.

Vergil surmised that the blonde was either an idiot or very insane. If there was one thing he'd learned in all his time in the Underworld it was that Demons could only be trusted to be Demons. Placing faith in one for help was literally asking to be betrayed at the worst possible time.

A Demon's timing for backstabbing was impeccable. Even Gedran could attest to that.

"Your word isn't enough." Vergil spat.

For once in his life, Dante wholeheartedly agreed with his brother, nodding.

"Sorry babe, but he's right. We can't take that kind of risk." Dante reasoned with Trish. He kept his voice low.

The red haired woman shrugged.

"It's a shame. Cause my word's _all_ I have." The Hound laughed at their silence and scepticism. "You don't want my help, fine, I can deal." Her head tilted upwards and her nostrils flared. The smile slipped from her face. "However, you might find yourselves changing your minds very shortly." Both her eyes shone brightly, the orange glow spreading as her pupils dilated to the size of large coins. She smiled, almost apologetically and backed into the shadows, vanishing before anyone could say anything. They knew better than to check for her. She was gone.

"Trish, go with Lady and get the kids. Me and Verge here will thin the…" Dante stopped mid sentence and coughed. A globule of blood was spat in Trish's face. She recoiled clawing at the liquid splashed across her horrified features.

He looked down and noticed the end of a very thin sword protruding out of his chest. He staggered a little but recovered instantly.

"Just once I'd like them to try stabbing me somewhere other than my chest. These shirts ain't cheap." He growled. Red energy flickered along his arms and torso as he turned to view the assailant. But there was nothing. Vergil had moved beside Trish and all three furrowed their brow as the hilt came into view. Guns and swords were drawn.

"I know that weapon." The words tumbled out of Vergil's mouth.

"Really?" Dante did a semi-comical spin to try and take a look at the hilt. A bright red cord with tassels hung from the end and whipped about as he tried to get a better view. Trish's face lit with understanding. She knew that weapon too.

Vergil pulled it out sharply, perhaps a little more sharply than Dante would have liked, and held it up. It was a simple straight sword. Elegant. Not something that would stand a chance against a weapon as ferocious as Rebellion or as powerful as Yamato, it wouldn't even do that much damage to a Demon, but the terrifying thing about the lithe sword was not the damage it could do. It was its past owner. It was the message that he was sure was trying to be conveyed.

"This belonged to the Human that killed Faro."

Gedran wouldn't have bothered with a weapon as fragile as the straight sword. The only one that would have, the Demon Lord tossed into hell.

The temperature dropped suddenly. Before the eyes of everyone present the air in front of Vergil began rippling. The colours moved and merged like thick smoke. A figure began to appear. Much too small to be any regular Demon; a shredded black cloak clung to its skeleton like form. The air was punctuated with a smell. Not unlike the smell of rotting flesh but so much more potent. It was as familiar to Vergil as Dante. It was the stench of Hell.

Ghostly fingers snaked out slowly and wrapped over the hand Vergil had the hilt secured in. Someone fired a shot but it passed right through the figure's head. The hand passed through his, a cold and very unnerving feeling and as soon as it made contact with the sword the entire thing, sword and everything, slipped through his fingers. Insubstantial. Nothing more than cold air. The wraith backed up slowly having reclaimed its weapon.

With the combination of the dim lighting and the hood pulled over its head, Vergil couldn't see more than the dirt and dried blood stains on the lower half of her face. But he didn't need to see the rest to know who this was.

As suddenly as it came it just…disappeared.

Half a dozen guns were left pointing at empty air.

"Does anyone else think that that was just a little too creepy…_and_easy?" Dante asked to no one in particular. Absentmindedly he rubbed at his chest. He was unnerved, and it showed.

Lady's eyes widened. Before Dante could draw another breath her feet were moving and she was out the door..

The realization struck them barely a moment after it had dropkicked Lady's stomach into her throat.

They found the hall literally crawling with Demons. Marionettes, Hell Prides and Dante's least favourite of all Demons _ever_: the Shadow. Truth be told, he didn't even like cats.

"I don't see them. _I__can__'__t__see__them!_" With a desperate shriek, Trish mercilessly ripped the arm from the unlucky Marionette that had happened to have made the mistake of touching her. Not bothering with her gun she plucked up a sickle from a fallen Hell Pride and began ruthlessly hacking at them. It was carnage, pure and simple and it bathed the corridor in sand and crystallized blood. Gun shots fired over her head and the walls of the corridor crumbled and cracked under the slaughter and mayhem. Unbeknownst to her, energy was cackling in the air. It licked along her arms and spread its tendrils along the floor and across the sickle she was using, striking out at any an all Demons. It was growing brighter as she cleared a messy path up the hall after the dangerous whirlwind that was Lady.

There was a high pitched scream, and a flicker of light at the end of the hall spilled out from a newly broken doorway.

Trish rushed towards it only for her view to be blocked as yet more Demons materialized. She cut the nearest one down only for three more to take its place. She could hear more appearing behind her. Separating her from Dante. Trying to close in on her from all sides. And yet, all she could think about was the source of that scream.

Something deep within Trish snapped at that. Something broke. Twisted. Changed inside her. It felt like her bones were being pulled out of her skin. She felt her blood boil and her innards tear. She bared her teeth and roared. The sound that left her throat was an altogether foreign noise. Too strangely pitched to be Human, it cracked the wooden floorboards beneath her feet and forced the Demons in front back a few steps. Regardless of the numbers facing her and those still appearing, Trish ran. Whether that was past the Demons or straight through them, she simply didn't stop moving. They swiped at her but she felt nothing. She swung wildly, knocking them out of her way and stepping on those that had fallen. She reached the doorway and with a hand on each side of the archway she flung herself inside. The force at which she propelled herself into the room was enough to turn the Sloth that she collided with into nothing more than sand. She screamed again. Her clawed fingers ripped the torso of the next Demon to attack. She couldn't even distinguish them anymore. Everything was a whirlwind of colour and shapes and noise.

Until there was nothing more coming at her. No more blades and snarls, no more screams. She stood there panting for a moment before she turned to view her surroundings. The room had probably been an expensive suite back when the building had been a hotel; judging from the décor that had been sometime in the sixties.

A gun cocked and Trish spun to locate the sound. A bloodied Lady stood with Holly behind her and Darren lying at her feet, a semi-automatic was pointed straight at the blonde's face.

Trish stared in momentary confusion at the distrust on Lady's features.

"What are you doing?" She asked. But the voice didn't match her-own. It was hollow and sent chills of fear up her spine. Lady's eyes scanned her critically. Trish frowned and looked down at her hands, but instead of carefully manicured nailed and her usual red polish, there were a set of claws. Black claws. She wiggled her fingers and watched in morbid fascination, and a little horror, as the talon tipped digits responded accordingly.

"Trish?"

At the sound of the voice her energy sapped and she slumped to her knees. She watched her hands flicker back and heard Lady's muttered curses along with Vergil's cruel laugh.

"It would seem there's a little more Demon in there than I thought." The blue Devil snickered somewhat offhandedly.

Dante turned on him instantly.

"Vergil, you open your mouth one more time and I'll SHUT YOU UP!" He roared; an unearthly red glow momentarily consuming his eyes.

Vergil clamped down the retort that bubbled on his lips and almost made it out, but wisely he kept quiet. He'd never heard Dante raise his voice. Not in anger. Frustration, maybe. But never anger. The Devil couldn't even recall the last time that Dante had even been properly angry. His red clad twin was usually so good at laughing things off with a smart comment or brushing it aside with a disinterested glare.

A whimper snapped Dante's head back around and his eyes locked on the little blonde child peeking out from behind a drained looking Lady. Lady now sat clutching the still form of her son as close as she could. It wasn't possible to tell from her expression if her son was injured or worse. She looked totally blank. Thinner and frailer than ever. Nobody would ever guess that this Human had cut her way through the Demons at a speed that had put the sons of Sparda to shame.

The frozen expression on the Huntress' face cracked and morphed into one of astute horror and sorrow. When she started rocking the boy's form in her lap, Vergil turned away. It was so stark an example of suffering that he couldn't bare to look at it. It wrenched at something in him and his gut tightened. An ever growing reminder of his rediscovered Humanity.

He didn't even need to see the blood pooling underneath the still form to know that without a shadow of a doubt, the boy was gone.


End file.
